Title Subject To Change
by TheSleepingNeko
Summary: Roy had never meant to come across the boys, but then again, they had never hoped to be caught. When pickpockets strike Mustang, he wants to deliver justice…but will something change his mind? Parental!Roy & slight parental!Hughes. AU. Nonyaoi. …Who are they, who are they really?
1. ʙ ᴏ ʟ ᴅ – p i c k p o c k e t s

**¡Hola, amigas!  
>Escribí otro fanfic, ¡por lo tanto, aquí está! Necesito escribir mucho más pero no quiero ahora mismo. Estoy cansada. Porque...<br>...Lo siento.**

**Sorry, I'll stop now. **^_^"** I like practicing mi español from time to time, so I might subject y'all to it. If you're too lazy to copy/paste that to Google Translate, I just said that I wrote another fic! I still have to do some more writing but not right now. I'm tired.**  
><strong>That being because it's like, after midnight. <strong>orz

**Anyway, to many, including me, this is unforgivably short—fewer than 1,000 words. OMG _no_, the _horror_! **¬.¬"** I say again, lo siento. But that'll be about the average length of all the chappys(chappies?).**

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><p><span>Eᴅɪᴛ 211/12: Don't listen to her, it's not true. They get longer...

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><p><strong>This's my first multi-chapter fic in a couple years. I would say go easy on me, but don't. Be <em>patient<em>, yes. But not easy. I want you to point out any and all mistakes you can find; I_ will_ fix it/them. ****This fic'll contain parental!Roy, parental!Maes, and possible parental!Riza (Gotta love the parents). Brotherly love, plenty of h/c, possible angst, and humor when I can fit it in. I also want plot bunnies from my readers; my own have been worked very hard and need a rest.**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris. Leaning _slightly_ more toward the first anime. Alchemy exists.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon.<br>|Eᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: AU, no automail, you'll find out the rest. Young teenager.****  
>|Rᴏʏ : 96.8% canon.<br>|Rɪᴢᴀ : 94.1% canon.  
>|Mᴀᴇs: 99.6% canon.<br>|All three keep their respective ages.  
>|All characters retain their personalities.<strong>

**All those stats are accurate; I'm a math geek. And any lack of canon in a character's personality is largely due to to another's influence in their life. More stuff'll be filled in later as it becomes relevant.**

**Now, without further ado, I'll stop babbling! **xD **You get a peppermint if you actually read all o' that.**  
><strong>Here you have... ᴄᴀʀᴛᴇʀɪsᴛᴀs<strong> — audaces<strong>.**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To<span> Change**  
>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-<p>

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><p><strong>.: 1 :.<br>ʙ** **ᴏ** **ʟ** **ᴅ** ** — ** **p** **i** **c** **k** **p** **o** **c** **k** **e** **t** **s  
><strong>**[**_The thieves and the officer_**]**

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><p>An icy breeze blew through the empty streets, gently ruffling the onyx hair of the Flame Alchemist. The man stayed perfectly still, his soft breathing the only sound emanating from his motionless form. His fingers were at the ready, prepared to snap at any moment and deliver his signature flames.<p>

Crouched down at the entrance to an alleyway, he waited, one black booted foot positioned underneath him and making an impression in one of the many small composites of un-melted snow around the edges of the surrounding buildings. His other foot was upright before him with his arm draped across the knee. He readjusted his fingers, still ready to snap. His breaths formed puffs of steam that floated up to engulf his face before quickly dissipating.

He hoped it would warm up soon.

His muscles were threatening to cramp. Roy _really_ hoped it would warm up soon; it had been far too cold recently for his liking. Spring was already here and yet, they were still experiencing the occasional dusting of snow.

At the moment, he—along with several other officers—happened to be in the middle of hunting a rogue alchemist. The Sleeping Alchemist, to be exact. And, although Roy's squadron had made numerous cracks on the docility of the title, they had begun to despise the elusive man. They had all been out in this chilly weather for hours, waiting.

Just waiting.

Waiting and watching for their prey to inevitably stumble into their trap.

"Stop, thief!" a woman's voice called. Mustang's ears pricked at the sudden demand.

He looked up to see a short form dashing away from a bakery. The figure was of a child cloaked in a long, red coat, a small paper bag visible under their arm. The kid glanced back at the shopkeeper bellowing from outside her store. Before vanishing, however, Roy caught a glimpse of the kid's face. Black eyes locked with golden ones peeking out from underneath the red hood. The golden pair swept over the officer's hunched form, taking him in.

Then the child disappeared.

Had he not been preoccupied with his current mission, Roy might have tried to aid the shopkeeper. But as it was, he had other matters to attend to. Namely, to apprehend the Sleeping Alchemist.

He sat there for a while longer, trying to keep himself from becoming lost in thought.

If only it weren't so blasted _cold_…

"Sir!"

Mustang jumped and swore, smacking his head into the stone wall beside him. He rubbed at it and winced as he turned to face Riza Hawkeye, who stood at attention.

"Yes?" he responded with irritation.

"We've captured the Sleeping Alchemist, sir. You are relieved of your post."

"Thank you, Hawkeye," Roy said, stiffly rising from his crouch. When the blonde remained rigid, the older man sighed. "At ease, Lieutenant." The woman obediently relaxed. "Well, that's one fewer criminal out on the streets," Roy surmised.

Hawkeye smiled a little. She followed as he began walking.

"Yo, Roy!" a familiar voice called. Mustang looked up to see Hughes striding toward him, waving one hand in the air in greeting, a grin plastered on his face. "You'll never guess who we just bagged!"

Mustang smirked. "Let me guess… The Sleeping Alchemist?"

Hughes feigned being impressed. "You're just too sharp for me, aren't you?" He laughed heartily. "Sure was hard to catch, but he's living up to his name now, what with that concussion Hawkeye gave him." He winked at the woman.

Riza bit back a chuckle at the men's friendly banter. It was to be expected after hours of tension. "Colonel," she began, "I was wondering–" but she was cut off as a figure abruptly bumbled into her superior.

"Oof! What the–? Whoa, whoa, there. Careful. What's the big rush?" Roy addressed the boy he had just grabbed by the shoulders. The boy stared up at the black haired man he had just knocked into with large eyes, which were a grayish mix of green and gold. The boy appeared to be around twelve or thirteen years old with hair the color of dark goldenrod. He wore a black hooded jacket.

"Oh, um…" The child swallowed, seeming a little nervous. "I was just…um wondering if you could tell me how to get to the bakery?"

"Right over there," Riza instructed helpfully, turning and pointing toward the building they had just passed. "_Sir_!" she exclaimed suddenly. She lunged behind her superior in a vain attempt to nab the second boy she had just noticed—the boy who was now stealing Mustang's silver pocket watch!

Roy spun around, catching a glimpse of golden-blond hair before the second boy dashed around him. Two children's figures—one red and one black—raced away from the pair of military officers.

"Pickpockets!" Roy snarled, enraged, and instantly took off after the kids, Hawkeye quick to follow. They wouldn't get away with this: trying to steal a State Alchemist's pocket watch. "Hughes!" he bellowed to the man who was still a fair distance away and also in the children's path, "Catch them; they're thieves!"

They definitely wouldn't get away with this.

Roy wouldn't let them.

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><p><strong><span>Eᴅɪᴛ 111/12****: **_Your Local Cow _**wanted to know why Roy didn't just use his flame alchemy to warm himself up. The answer is: he didn't want to endanger the mission by giving away his position somehow. Better safe than sorry—even if that's _my_ motto, not his.**

**Thanks for asking! This's out there for anyone who might've been wonderin' the same thing.**

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><p><strong>Well? <em>Well<em>? What d'you think? Any OOCness? Any spelling/grammar mistakes? Any inconsistencies? Well, no, hopefully not, considering that this's only the first chap. That would be fail.  
>…Was it any good?<strong>

**BTW, the alchemist's name had _nothing_ to do with my own title. I only noticed the similarity when typing it out an' almost typing **_TheSleepingNeko_**. lol**

**But, honestly, _tell _****me what_ you think_! I can't get anywhere with a story without feedback. Are you so greedy as to just read what I write without the slightest thought as to the hours I spent staring at the wall, my sister's forehead, and a blank page trying to untangle and create plot ideas? All the work I put into this? I don't have a prob with you reading this at all, but _please review_! **:D

**Seriously!**

**_Now_.**

**| The button is right down here. |**

**| See it? |**  
><strong>| Good, now click. Is it so hard? |<strong>

**| Heck, give me a rating in stars out of five if you don't wanna write anythin'. |  
>| Maybe even just a<em> Like<em>. But still… |**

**| ...review! |**


	2. ɪ ɴ – n e e d

**¡Hola otra vez!  
><strong>**Quiero decirles a todas vosotras: ¡Gracias! ¡Gracias por los comentarios, los favoritos, y las alertas! ****Pero sobre todo para las revisiones. ¡Me hacen muy feliz! ¡Os quiero!**

**Y, ¡feliz Año Nuevo!  
><strong>**De todos modos, os presento, el siguiente capítulo: ʟᴏs — necesitan. Lo siento de nuevo. Hablo en inglés ahora mismo.**

**Heya!  
><strong>**I wanna thank you all! Thanks for the reviews, favs, and alerts. But mostly for the reviews They make my day! I love you guys!**

**Oh, and happy New Year! Well, where **_**I **_**live it's 2012, as in most of the rest of the world. But the site still says that it's 2011. **^^"**Consider it a special treat? ****I wanna let you know now that my author notes will prob'ly tend to be a little lengthy. Feel free to skip over this if y'want, but this's my only way to communicate with most of y'all. **:D **And you get a free peppermint if you read it. **^_^

**Also, if you **_**are **_**actually readin' this and if you want, please vote in my poll regarding this fic. It's in my profile. Not hard. At all. So, please?**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. Early spring.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Pickpocket. You'll find out more later on. Age 14. Older brother.  
>|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Elric: Human from the first anime—meaning his hair color. Pickpocket. You'll know more about him later, too. Age 13. Younger brother.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel.  
>|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ: First Lieutenant.<br>|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Lieutenant Colonel.  
>|All three keep their respective ages.<br>|All characters retain their original personalities and appearances.**

**Anyway, greetings and such aside, I present to you, the next chapter in TSTC. Enjoy!**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****_**  
><strong>_-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 2 :.<br>****ɪ** **ɴ** **—** **n** **e** **e** **d  
><strong>**[**_The destitute and an unsuspecting victim_**]**

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><p>Edward scrambled out of the bakery, his recently acquired prize—which was tucked snugly under his arm—bringing a small amount of warmth to his otherwise cold side. He shot a quick look over his shoulder at the irate owner, who was waving her pudgy fist at him, demanding that he stop.<p>

As _if_.

He wasn't about to give up the food he had just stolen, not on his life.

As he turned his attention back to his escape, he noticed someone watching him. He saw a man who was kneeling by an alleyway. The guy was dressed in an Amestris blue military uniform, hair matching his obsidian eyes. There was a glint of silver at his hip.

And then, Ed was hurrying down a street, turning left and right so as to prevent the portly shopkeeper from following him. Not that she _would_; she seemed much too large for a chase down backstreets. Nevertheless, Edward wasn't taking any chances.

So he ducked this way and that, scrambling behind dumpsters and gradually looping back around to where he had planned to meet back up with Al. But, just as he was rounding a corner, the tickle in the back of his throat worsened, causing him to cough roughly. He managed a few more steps before he was brought to his knees, harsh coughs racking his young frame. He doubled over, clasping a hand to his mouth in a vain attempt to still his lungs.

At last, after a few minutes, he could finally breathe regularly again. Ed dizzily leaned his now-sweaty forehead against the brick wall of the building beside him, trying to quell the adrenaline-induced nausea that his coughs had only worsened. He bit back a groan as he slouched there, panting.

He knew he was probably coming down with something. Alphonse knew it, too. In spite of this, the younger brother usually avoided confronting the older about it; Ed would only deny the accusation. And it wasn't like Alphonse could do anything to aid his brother, anyway. Ed was the one who supplied their meals most of the time; he was the older brother and it was his responsibility as such.

Resisting the urge to sit there and rest for a while longer, Edward rose to his feet—albeit, a bit unsteadily—and continued on his way.

He finally came to the hideout he and Al had preordained. He tried to whistle, failed and coughed, then tried again. A familiar copper haired head popped up, eyes alert. Wearily, the blond**(1.1) **raised the paper bag in the air, presenting it to his little brother.

The brown bag was snatched away eagerly as the honey-brown haired boy squatted down on the ground, reaching his hand into it. Edward chuckled hoarsely and knelt down next to Alphonse, who looked concernedly at the blond upon hearing the condition of his throat.

"Brother…?" he asked.

But Ed shrugged it off, raising Al's hood up to cover his head once more before saying, "Eat up."

The younger boy complied eagerly. He bit into a steaming roll, closing his eyes in ecstasy and savoring its warmth and flavor. His bright eyes opened to gaze thankfully at his sibling.

A frown grew upon his face when he noticed that Ed wasn't eating, however. "What's wrong, Brother?"

"Huh? Oh, nothin', Al," Edward said and shrugged his shoulders. He fingered the frayed edge of his red coat. "Just not very hungry right now, that's all."

"But, Ed… You're—we're—_always _hungry. What's wrong? Are you sick?" He reached out a hand to feel his brother's brow, but the other pulled away.

"I said I was fine, Al. Just drop it, will you?" The blond quickly erased his scowl and put on a soft smile instead. He even took a small corner of the bread and nibbled on it. "Hey, but if you're that worried, I know of something that might mean no more lurking around the stores, waiting for the owners to be distracted, just to get some food. Besides, we won't be able to get near that bakery again for another few months; that old hag sure was mad. So, what d'you say?"

"Sure!" came the expected response. "How do you mean, though?"

"Well, when I was coming back here, I caught a glimpse of some dude sitting at the edge of an alleyway."

"So?" Al took another bite of the bread that he held in his hands.

"He had a pocket watch…a _silver _pocket watch. Meaning that he was a State Alchemist. You know how much we could get for something like that?"

"Do you think he's still there?" asked Al excitedly.

"Prob'ly," replied Ed confidently. He rested his elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to produce some warmth. He breathed into his cupped palms, pausing to clear his throat. "So, you wanna give it a shot?"

Al's answer was of him jumping to his feet and stuffing the last bite of the roll into his mouth, quickly chewing and swallowing.

"Then c'mon, let's go. The guy won't stick around forever."

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><p>The blond teenager led the copper haired one through a route—much quicker than the evasive one he had taken in his escape—to the place where the black haired man had last been seen.<p>

Ed stopped his brother just before they stepped onto the main road. "Shh…" he shushed. They heard voices approaching from their right. A man was chatting with another man far off to their left. Edward gave his brother a hand signal before slipping into the shadows.

A woman's voice broke in, "Colonel, I was wondering–" The little boy chose that moment to jump in, pretending to accidentally bump into the man.

"Oof! What the–? Whoa, whoa, there. Careful. What's the big rush?"

Alphonse gazed up at him, getting what he was going to say straight in his mind. "Oh, um…" Al swallowed, and slipped into his role. He could see Edward sneaking around behind the man to get at the pocket watch. "I was just…" Where should he say he was looking for? He felt his stomach silently growl with hunger and said the first thing that came to his head, "um wondering if you could tell me how to get to the bakery?"

A blonde**(1.2) **woman standing beside the man whom he was addressing smiled in a motherly way. "Right over there," she offered, turning to point in the direction. But her eyes immediately caught sight of the second newcomer. "_Sir_!" Edward pocketed his prize quickly before skirting around the couple and grabbing hold of Al's arm, pulling him along.

The boys could hear the black haired guy swear before muttering something that sounded something like "trick lockets". Then he shouted after the boys, "Hughes! Catch them; they're thieves!"

Alphonse looked up ahead to see another black haired man, also dressed in a military uniform, but a bit taller than the first. The guy wore narrow, rectangular glasses.

Edward, too, saw the second man, whom they were quickly approaching. Without a second thought, he shoved his little brother into an alley. "Go!" he ordered, still running. "We'll meet up again, same place!" Then Ed dove down a different alley.

Al ran.

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><p><strong><span>Eᴅɪᴛ 112/12: Thanks, **_awesomenaruto_** for being my beta!**

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><p><strong>(1) <strong>**Many don't know it, but the hair color is spelled "_blonde_" for women and "_blond_" for boys. Same with "_brunette_" vs. "_brunet_". Just thought I'd spare someone the confusion.**

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><p><strong>Well, that's the next chapter! <strong>**Tell me what you thought! ****If coaxing doesn't work, then I tell you that I see how many people visited here and never commented... ***ominous silence* **Pleeeeeasse? I worked so hard…**

**In other-ness I'd like it if anyone would kindly inform me if I ever have any typos or anythin' else that doesn't match. I **_**will **_**correct the mistake and thank you in the A/N. Don't forget about that poll, and I'm always open to suggestions. I can do small scenes on request provided it doesn't go against characters' personalities and/or the plotline. Ƥϻ me for anything in particular—I won't bite! **:)

**Review, too! It's **_**not **_**hard!  
>It can be as simple at a rating in start, a Like, or just a single word. The more reviews, the merrier. If you're new, don't be shy that you feel like you should only review the latest chappy; you can tell me what you likeddisliked for each one. Please?**

_**| Please**_**? |**

**| It's **_**so **_**easy… |**

**| The button's down here. |  
>| Clickie! |<strong>


	3. ᴛ ʜ ᴇ – c h a s e

**¡Mis amigas!—por favor, decidme si algunas de vosotras os muchachos.**

**De todos modos, ¡ya estoy de vuelta! Y aquí es un capítulo. Titulado: ʟᴀ — persecución.** **¡Espero que todas vosotras lo disfrutéis!**

**Esto fue interesante de escribir. Me sentía muy culpable por hacer llorar a Alphonse.** **Pero eso no ha sucedido todavía. Ja ja ja~**  
><strong>¿Por qué estoy riendo? ¡Uf!<strong>

**I'm back! And here's another chappy! If you read it and like it, then review! Pweeeeease?  
>And look! I actually uploaded it during the <em>day<em>, when normal people are _awake_! Who woulda guessed?**

**Also, not that most might care, but music really helps you write, just puts you in the mood. Even if the lyrics don't match. So, if you wanna hear the same thing I did when writing this scene, it's _Fire_ by Krystal Meyers for Al's part and _The Way To Begin_, also by Krystal Meyers, for Ed's part. Not so much for the lyrics, but I thought the music accompanied it surprisingly well. **^_^

**Thank you so much, the loverl****y **_awesomenaurto _**for being my beta; you take a lot of work off my back! **xD

******|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. 1913, early spring.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Pickpocket. Secrets in store for later. Older brother. Age 14.  
><strong>**|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human. Hair color from first anime. Also pickpocket. Same stuff comin' as from Ed, too. Younger brother. Age 13.  
>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.<br>|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ: First Lieutenant.  
>|Both keep their respective ages.<br>|All characters retain their original personalities and appearances.******

**…Y'know what I realized? Hughes' parental ability is _overwhelming_! He's just so good at it! I'm gonna need to start kicking him out of the scenes later on just to give Roy a chance! But, yes, _lots_ of parental!Maes in a little bit. The parental!Roy will have to wait until later when Mustang warms up a little; sorry, it's just not in-character for me to have him be fatherly this early on. **._.

******Without**** _any_**** further ado—because I overdo the ado—mis amigas, here's your continuation...**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>**  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 3 :.<strong>  
><strong>ᴛ<strong> **ʜ** **ᴇ** **—** **c** **h** **a** **s** **e  
><strong>**[**_The fugitives and their pursuer_**]**

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><p>Alphonse Elric dashed down one of the many side streets, panting from exertion. He could hear the clop of boots hitting pavement behind him.<p>

He turned a corner, pressing his hands against a wall to keep himself upright. Everything would be fine, provided he managed to escape these people. He and Ed could sell that watch for a great price and they'd actually be able to purchase food, versus always having to steal it.

"Get back here!" the man, from whom they'd just stolen the watch, shouted furiously. The order, however, did nothing to slow the boy's pace and, in fact, had the opposite effect. He briefly stumbled over his too-large shoes, falling and skinning up his knees where holes had worn through his pants. He gasped at the shock of the pain but quickly righted himself and ran harder.

Alphonse looked back.

The first man was in hot pursuit, gaining rapidly. The second man was nowhere in sight and neither was the woman. So they weren't problems, but this white-gloved guy certainly was.

Seeing an opportunity, Al hastily leapt onto a metal ladder that hung over the edge of one of the shops. He scaled it with the agility that only came with constant repetition. Once at the top, the boy spared a moment to look back down at his pursuer.

A yelp shot out of his throat as he saw the man directly below him and simultaneously felt something grab onto his ankle. He promptly dropped to all fours—or, three, as it would be—and kicked his leg around, trying to dislodge the iron grip.

The white-gloved man was rapidly scaling the remaining cold rungs on the ladder, getting a better hold on the honey-brown haired kid's boot.

Al felt his heart leap into his throat. Was this it? Was he really about to be caught?

What about Ed? No matter how stubborn the blond insisted on being, he still needed someone to look out for him. And how would he react to his baby brother being captured?

No, _no_! He wouldn't let that happen!

They needed each other; Al couldn't survive without Edward anymore than Ed could survive without Alphonse.

With a last valiant effort, the child kicked as hard as he could, twisting his leg around. He felt a twinge of pain. His boot slid off, leaving him half-barefooted. Though, he didn't feel the sharp jolt until he scrambled to his feet and took off again.

He tried to wipe the involuntary tears from his face, telling himself that Ed had surely suffered far worse, even as more formed in the corners of his eyes with each new step.

A sob escaped him.

He stumbled to the edge of the roof and clumsily leaped across. Another cry tore free of his throat as he landed awkwardly, jarring his ankle. Al knew he was in trouble; he was injured and his soon-to-be captor was gaining on him. He was going to get caught. His heart thudded in his chest harder and harder as he shoved himself to his feet for what felt like the hundredth time. The anguished tears were coming freely now, making it a little harder to see clearly.

He was just a kid. He wanted—_needed_—his brother. But he wouldn't let that stop him.

Alphonse free-fell from the next roof's edge, tucking in and rolling as he landed in the smelly dumpster below. Popping up, he continued on his desperate way, trusting that everything would be okay if only he could find Edward.

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><p>The other Elric was having his own problems. Whatever had been bothering his system had decided that it wasn't going to hold back during the chase. Once again, he fell sideways, overcome with dizziness. Ed surely would have been caught by now had it not been for the fact that he seemed to have lost the man—the taller one wearing the glasses—who was chasing him.<p>

Good thing, too, because he was going nowhere fast.

He hunched over, covering his mouth with a fisted hand, fingers freezing. The coughs were harsh, his throat raw and burning. A heavy throb pounded in the back of his skull.

But he had to keep going.

He stiffly staggered forward, one hand held protectively over his lurching stomach; he couldn't afford to lose that little sustenance he had.

Glancing blearily around him, Edward brought his thoughts back to Al.

Alphonse…

He had to get back to him. He couldn't leave his little brother, not alone. Not with these people around.

But where was he? How could he get back? Back to Al, his brother and only family.

With a frustrated grunt, the teen trudged along, breathing shallowly. Suddenly, there were footsteps nearby. Edward flattened himself against a wall, trying to quiet his raspy breathing. When whoever it was had passed, Ed let out a relieved breath and wiped his nose wearily. It was then that he noticed the smudge of red across his fingers. He stared at it, blinking owlishly. Turning his palm over, he beheld a long gash running across the back of his hand and oozing blood. He swore angrily; now he'd have to find some way to disinfect the cut. That would mean stealing some medical supplies. Though, maybe now with their new and valuable possession, he and Al could actually purchase some legally.

He couldn't hold back the small smile at that particular thought: both boys going to a store and waiting while their purchases were bagged for them, bidding farewell to the shopkeeper on their way out the door.

That was the type of life he wanted his little brother to have. And he _would_ give it to him.

Even if it meant stealing things like the watch that was currently residing in his coat pocket.

Muscles aching, Edward rounded the next corner, only to find the muzzle of a gun pointed right at his face. His heart dropped and his breath caught in his throat as he swallowed. His eyes roamed up to the stern female face owned by the wielder of the weapon. It was framed by blonde hair pulled back behind her head. Hazel eyes glared at him while her lips spread into a small, self-satisfied smirk.

Crap.

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><p><strong>Omigosh, I made Alphonse <em>cry<em>! ***emo* **I had to take a break and just walked around the house with this remorseful look on my face after that bit.**

**Oh yeah...that was a cliffy, right? Haha~ **;p **Review to tell me what y'thought!**

**Fᴀᴄᴛ: Reviews improve the quality of my writing.  
>Aʟsᴏ <strong>F<strong>ᴀᴄᴛ: A lack of reviews discourages me. Because, honestly, if no one reviews, I'm just left to assume that nobody likes this fic. **:(

**So _talk to me_. I am_ human_, too! Oh, and vote in my poll. No joke. ¡Votad!** ^u^

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	4. s ɪ ᴄ ᴋ ʟ ʏ – b o y

**¡Hola!**

**¡Es bueno veros de nuevo!** **Escribí más.** **No tengo mucho hablar hoy.**

**Por lo tanto, os doy mi creación de literatura~** **Se llama: **ɴɪɴ̃ᴏ — enfermo**. Ah, estuve a punto de escribir: Niño _Enfermero_. Je je… **o_O **(1)**  
><strong>Oh, por favor, todas vosotras, ¡votéis en mi encuesta!<strong>

**Gracias,** _awesomenaruto**,**_** for betareading.** :D

**Anyway, here's capítulo cuatro. I hope you enjoy it. **ˆ-ˆ **If you _do_, then review! Honestly, I can't stress that enough. It makes me happy. And a happy writer is a better author. Sí.**

********|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. 1913, early spring.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Pickpocket. More in store for later. Older Elric brother. Age 14.  
><strong>**|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human. Also a pickpocket. Secret stuff in store for him, too. Younger Elric brother. Age 13.  
>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.<br>**************|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ: First Lieutenant.  
><strong>************|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Lieutenant Colonel.  
><strong>************|All three keep their respective ages.  
><strong>************|All characters retain their original personalities and appearances...as best as I can write them. ******^^"**********

**Aᴅᴠᴇʀᴛᴇɴᴄɪᴀ/Wᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Hughes has been released. That is all.**

**So...read away!**

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 4 :.<br>**** s** **ɪ** **ᴄ** **ᴋ** **ʟ** **ʏ** **—** **b** **o** **y  
><strong>**[**_The pitiful children and the law_**]**

* * *

><p>Roy's feet smacked the ground as he closed in on the black-jacketed boy. The kid was stumbling along, shooting desperate glances over his shoulder. Roy didn't know what relation this boy had to the one who had stolen his watch, but he hoped that catching him might lead them to the other.<p>

He leaped over a bundle of rubbish on the ground and stretched out his arm. His fingers barely brushed the boy's jacket. A startled gasp escaped his quarry and, as the head whipped around, Roy saw a tear-streaked face gazing at him in terror.

The next bend in the complex alleyways was taken without caution. The dark goldenrod haired boy slammed into the wall and shoved himself off, scrabbling at the air with his hands as he lost his balance, breathing in short gasps.

Roy's white-gloved hand latched onto the frayed hem of the child's jacket.

"No!" The yells were desperate, punctuated with sobs. "No, no-o-o-o! No! Brother! No-o-o, please!" Mustang wrapped his arms around the boy as he tackled him, landing on the hard ground with a muted _thud_. "Lemmie go-o-o-o! _Brother_!"

* * *

><p>Adjusting his glasses, Hughes cautiously peered around the corner…then sighed. There stood Hawkeye, pistol pointed directly between the eyes of a pale youth. The boy was breathing rapidly and looked ready to pass out.<p>

Lowering his guard, Maes strode forward silently. Slight concern tugged at his heart when he saw the sweaty flush to the kid's cheeks despite the cold weather. Then the boy swayed slightly and readjusted his balance.

Once there, Maes stood alongside Hawkeye, facing the blond boy. The lieutenant colonel gently placed his hand on Riza's arm, coaxing her to lower the weapon.

"Sir…" she protested softly, but obeyed.

"I can handle him. You go and see if Roy needs any help."

Riza glanced between two males, clearly unsure. But then Hughes gave her a reassuring smile. Hawkeye gave a sharp nod and jogged off. Hughes knew perfectly well that she didn't want to be away from the colonel for too long.

When she had left, Maes squatted down in order to be eye-to-eye with the young teenager, who looked even whiter than before, if not a little green. He held out his palm expectantly, the way he always did when his two year-old daughter took something she didn't need to have and he asked for it to be returned. "I think you should give that back," he suggested in a calm voice.

Thin, trembling fingers quickly strayed protectively to a side pocket of the tattered jacket the boy was wearing as golden eyes narrowed at the man before him. The kid started to snarl rebelliously but the sound caught in his throat and he winced, hunching over and hacking into his hand.

Hughes reached out to steady him, but the blond boy stumbled backward to avoid the contact, coughing harder.

The teen glanced up, looking like a trapped animal and backed up more. A sinking feeling in his stomach, Hughes suddenly reached out to grab his arm, but too late. The teen had already spun around and taken off.

Maes jumped to his feet, swearing, and ran after him. This was getting ridiculous. The thief was practically falling over himself coughing and the man quickly caught his quarry, but the kid wouldn't give up easily. He wasted no time in driving his fist into the face of his captor, snarling yet again. Maes momentarily let go of the struggling teenager, who scrambled away, not getting very far. When Hughes looked up, the blond was on his hands and knees gasping for breath.

The lieutenant colonel strode over. The teen shifted and crawled backward shakily.

Maes stopped. The other kept moving, golden orbs glaring out at him from under the red hood.

Again, Maes walked forward and the thief quickened his retreat, appearing slightly frightened. But Hughes just kept coming. The kid scrambled back as fast as he could but couldn't outdistance the man before he grabbed onto his sleeve.

And like that, the younger was struggling like a madman. Hughes quickly wrapped his strong arms around the boy, refusing to relinquish even as he kicked and swore, demanding to be let go. He held on tightly until his captive's thrashing diminished and he was once more choking on ragged coughs.

Watching him, Maes couldn't hold onto his anger, not when the teen was so obviously sick. Instead, he loosened his hold and sat on his heels, patting the kid's back. He was confident that he wouldn't try to escape again. However, the act of kindness was not taken well and the hand was roughly shoved away…only to return again. On the third try, the teenager let it reside there, too engulfed in breathing through the chilling breeze.

Looking dizzy, the boy leaned his head down a little more, puffing before a slight whimper escaped his lips. Then a pained groan. "Uugh…no…" He tentatively wrapped an arm around his middle, suddenly letting out a gag. He swallowed convulsively and gagged again, harder. "No, _no_…"

Hughes felt his heart constrict as he realized what was wrong: for the teen, every bit of nourishment mattered and it would be a horrible waste to throw it back up. But he couldn't do anything about it.

The blond moaned in discomfort, breathing through his nose, lips pressed tightly together. Hughes moved his hand in soothing circles, occasionally rubbing his thumb between the youth's shoulder blades.

"Come on, now…" he coaxed as he felt the boy's back tense up, "you're just gonna make yourself feel worse if you keep this up." It occurred to Hughes that the teenager might not really appreciate his captor's advice at the moment—why _would _he want a military officer, who had just chased him down, to comfort him?—but as the child's breathing abruptly quickened and he whimpered urgently, the man didn't honestly care, fatherly instincts kicking in. "Go on, you'll feel better afterward."

"Sh–shut _u_–" The young pickpocket lurched forward as he finally lost control of his churning stomach and threw up on the ground. He took in a gasping breath before retching again.

Maes shushed the miserable teen, reminded all too much of the case of the stomach bug his little Elicia had suffered through just last month. He continued rubbing and murmuring, "That's it, let it all out. There you go…"

But the blond had nothing left to throw up, the first couple of heaves having completely emptied his stomach of its meager contents. He was reduced to a shivering figure, hunched over and dry heaving while a man of the state stroked his back.

After another several minutes, he was finished, collapsing sideways, not even aware of whom he was leaning on. He feebly wiped his sleeve across his mouth and gazed blearily up at the face hovering above his own.

"Now," Maes said, retaining a bit of his fatherly demeanor, but also slipping on the austerity expected from his rank, "I think you have some explaining to do." He held out the pocket watch that he'd managed to slide out when the boy had been sick. "And I have a suspicion that you're gonna find yourself in a bit of trouble for this."

Those were the last words spoken between the two of them before the blond sighed jadedly and passed out.

* * *

><p><strong>(1) Nᴏᴛᴀs ᴅᴇ ᴇsᴘᴀɴ̃ᴏʟ: I sometimes like to give my títulos españoles {Spanish titles} a little deeperaltered meaning. You can look around and translate it if you like.**

**The thing with _enfermo_ versus _enfermero_ is that if I had used _enfermero_ by mistake, as I almost did, the chapter would be titled: "Child Nurse".**

**Lastly, en español, the letter "J" makes an "H" sound, whereas "H" is silent. So "_Ja ja ja~_" and "_Je-je_" are essentially in English "Ha ha ha~" and "He-he", respectively.**

**Also, Spanish vocab**.**: _Hola_ = Hello/Hi |_ Gracias_ = Thanks | _y_ = and | _vosotras_ = you girls | _De todos modos_ = Anyway/So |_ Por favor_= Please | _capítulo_ = chapter | _en_ = in/on | _mi_/_mis_ = my/my(plural) |_ Lo siento_ = (I'm) sorry | _o_ = or | _amigas_ = friends(female) |_Adiós_ = Good-bye/Bye**

* * *

><p><strong>Well...that's it…so far. Heh.<strong>

**Feel free to Ƥϻ me if something ever confuses you—you might not be the only one. I've never bitten anyone in my life... Um...yeah. I love people talking to me. **:) **And don't be shy!  
>Please?<strong>

**_• Random_: Hughes practically writes himself, whereas I sit at the computer for half an hour when I'm trying to get Riza to speak in a paragraph. She's just not really easy. But I will work however hard I need to to keep her as IC as I can.**

**But yeah, vote y/o review!**

**| Gimmie stars out of five... |  
>| …thumbs up. |<br>| A couple o' words saying you didn't hate it... |  
><strong>**| ...or anything! |**

**| I accept critical advice. |**

**| And I always respond unless you ask me not to. |  
>| The amazing button of makeyourauthorveryhappy-ness is right down here! |<strong>

**| Click! |**


	5. ʜ ᴏ ᴘ ᴇ ʟ ᴇ s s – s t r u g g l e s

**Buenos días. ¡Estoy aquí de nuevo!**

**En mi opinión, este capítulo es demasiado breve. Pero eso es sólo lo que es. Lo siento. ****_Sin embargo_****, los capítulos posteriores serán más largos. Es bueno, ¿verdad? ¡Bueno, creo que sí! **^_^

**Trabajé mucho en esto, así por favor revisad. ¡Me hacen muy feliz! De todos modos, aquí está mi capítulo de TSTC. Se llama: ʟᴜᴄʜᴀs — **fútiles**.**

**¡Disfrutéis!**

**Good day to y'all. It's me again! **^w^

**In my opinion, this chappy is too short. But that's just how it turned out, and I didn't want to drag out a scene too long. However, the chapters later on get longer. Good, right? ****_I_**** certainly think so!**

**Well, basically,** *evil voice* **I created another chapter—that you all wouldn't ever be able to read had I not put the time and effort into it—so please leave feedback! It makes me very happy. Besides, I'm left kinda depressed when I don't get reviews.** TTnTT** As I said, it leads me to believe that the story isn't being enjoyed. **:(

**Anyway, enjoy!** :)

**********|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ:****** Canon. Amestris.  
><strong><strong><strong><strong>|Tɪᴍᴇ:<strong>**** Canon. 1913, early spring. April.  
><strong><strong><strong><strong>|Aʟ Eʟʀɪᴄ:<strong>**** No armor. A pickpocket. 13 years old. Yet-to-be-revealed thingies later on~  
><strong><strong><strong><strong>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ:<strong>**** Colonel. Flame Alchemist.  
><strong><strong><strong><strong><strong>|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ:<strong>**** First Lieutenant.  
>|Both adults keep their respective ages.<br>|All the characters retain their original appearances—from the first anime, simply due to convenience of not having too many blonds—and personalities.**************

**Oh, and gracias once again to ****_awesomenaurto _****for saving me so much work by being my beta. :D**

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 5 :.<br>ʜ** **ᴏ** **ᴘ** **ᴇ** **ʟ** **ᴇ** **s** **s** **—** **s** **t** **r** **u** **g** **g** **l** **e** **s  
><strong>**[**_The nameless and the frustrated colonel_**]**

* * *

><p>His captive struggled, thrashing about like a fish, even going so far as to claw at Mustang's face.<p>

Exasperated, Roy maneuvered around so that he had the goldenrod haired boy's arms pinned above his head. The boy, in turn, struck out with his feet, only to have more tears well up in his large eyes as his feet smacked against Roy's chest.

The man stared down at the child pinned beneath him. The young pickpocket's eyes, still leaking tears, were squeezed shut. His face was turned to the side and his jaw was clenched tightly. After a moment, Roy became aware of the tremors racking the small figure.

"Hey, breathe," he suddenly instructed, an echo of concern lacing his voice. The boy was, in fact, breathing; hyperventilating to be precise. An almost-constant stream of foggy air flew from the small, pink lips. "Breathe," he ordered again. His captive may be a thief, but he was also a little boy and Hawkeye wouldn't take too kindly to Roy causing the youngster avoidable harm.

At the second command, one of the grayish olive-green colored eyes hesitantly peeked open, but quickly snapped shut and the kid tensed. However, the breathing _did _even out slightly.

"What's your name?"

Roy's captive closed his lips and shook his head fiercely.

"Colonel?"

Both heads turned around to look at the woman who had just approached them. Riza seemed nonplussed at what she saw before her: her superior officer pinning one of the clearly distressed pickpockets and looking ready to snap.

Literally.

"Hawkeye, did you and Hughes manage to snag the other one?" Roy asked, calming a little. **(1)**

Nodding her head in the affirmative, Riza answered, "Yes, sir. I came to see if I could be of any assistance. But I see you've got everything…" she paused, looking at the trapped child, "under control. …Is that really necessary, sir?"

"You'd be surprised. He's as nimble as a cat. Has nails like one, too," the man said, referring to the couple of scratches on his face. "So, where is Hughes now?"

"He might be back at the car. I left him right after catching the other boy, so it–"

"Brother!" the kid suddenly exclaimed in despair. Both officers looked down to the helpless boy, whose face was scrunching up again, tears pooling at the outer corners of his eyes.

Roy saw defeat in the pickpocket's eyes as he asked, "So, he's your brother, is he?"

The boy turned his face away slightly in surrender, relaxing his muscles and closing his eyes as tears trailed down his dirty face. "Pl–please, don't hurt him; d–don't hu–hurt us. I wanna s–see my brother. I want Brother…" He was trembling and biting his bottom lip.

Riza knelt down next to them, calmly assuring, "We're not going to _hurt _either of you, but your brother did steal from us, and the military doesn't take too kindly to thievery."

"Plea–ease, I just want my brother."

Hawkeye sent a meaningful glance to Mustang. "Sir?" The word was of polite request. She looked down at the dirty and clearly exhausted boy. Even Mustang could see how miserable and stressed the child had become.

With a resigned sigh, Roy finally released his hold on the small thief and sat back. "Let's just take him and meet back up with Hughes. We can decide what to do then."

Riza reached into her pocket. "May I assume we'll not be requesting any police assistance in this matter?" She went around behind the despondent boy and raised him by his shoulders into a sitting position. After pulling his arms around behind him, she promptly handcuffed his wrists—it was protocol, after all.

"Why would we? We don't need to bother them with such a trivial thing," Roy answered, rising to his feet. He and Riza both knew, however, that what he _actually _meant was that the colonel would really rather not have to go through the embarrassment of explaining how he'd had his State Alchemist pocket watch stolen by a pair of street urchins. That was something he would honestly prefer to steer clear of if he possibly could.

And since he apparently could, he would.

Hawkeye nudged her captive, indicating for him to get up. He didn't. "Come on, stand up."

Hanging his head, the boy hesitantly whispered, "I–I hurt my ankle." As if to exemplify, he delicately spread both hands across the grubby ankle in question, like he might be able to protect it that way.

The blonde reached around to examine said injury, but the boy's hands shielding it made the task impossible. Still, she could glimpse a bit of swelling. "Will you let me look at it?" she asked, placing her palm on the small, interwoven fingers. He shook his head wordlessly.

Mustang shifted impatiently. "C'mon, we can deal with this later. Let's just get back. It's freezing out here." He illustrated by rubbing his hands up and down his arms rapidly. "Here, I'll carry the kid if you want." The man stooped down to pick the child up, but the younger flinched away at his nearing. Nonetheless, the colonel scooped the goldenrod haired boy up so that his knees hung over one of Roy's arms while the kid's own awkwardly-bound arms hung over the other one.

The boy tensed up, rigid in the hold. His eyes were fixed in an expression that was pleading, "_Don't drop me, don't drop me, please don't drop me…_"

Roy mockingly smirked but Riza shot him a warning glare.

"What? I wasn't going to do anything!"

"I never said that you were."

"Well, I wasn't. Have a little faith in me."

"I have complete faith in you, sir." She fingered her gun nonchalantly. Roy didn't even know if the move was a conscious one or not.

"Hawkeye, I am a mature adult; I'm not going to terrorize a troublesome little brat just to get some childish form of revenge for him causing this mess. Come on now."

"Of course, sir. Where would the sense in that be?" She began to walk away. "That wouldn't be a very intelligent thing to do at all."

Mustang followed warily, keeping an extra secure grip on his charge.

Not intelligent _indeed._

* * *

><p><strong>(1) Okay, funny bit here. When I was writing this, the sentence originally read, "How did you and Hughes make out with the other kid?". I was in the middle of changing it to what it currently is—"Hawkeye, did you and Hughes manage to snag the other one?"—when I had to get up. I was ever-so-grateful that I looked back down at my laptop screen afterward, because the unfinished altercation currently had Roy asking, "Hawkeye, did you and Hughes make out?"<br>lol **orz

* * *

><p><strong>Alright, I originally didn't like that scene until I did some last minute editing. Now I think I'm satisfied. <strong>:) **If you were, too, click on the little button below and tell me. And vote in my poll! Thanks to those who have already done so!**

**Never be too shy to review, even if this story is long-finished by the time you read it! I always love feedback~**

**I love you, mis amigas!**

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	6. ᴇ x ᴘ ᴏ s ᴇ ᴅ – f o r c i b l y

**¡Hola muchachas! Soy yo~ El próximo capítulo se titula: ᴇxᴘᴏsɪᴄɪᴏ́ɴ — forzada. Es más largo que el capítulo anterior. Y espero que lo disfrutéis muchachas.**

**...¡Ay, ay, ay! Estoy nerviosa.** **Escribí algo inesperado. Por favor, ¡no os enfadéis conmigo! Pensaba que y quiero decir para que esto suceda.**  
><strong>¿De acuerdo?<strong> **Ji, ji...** ^^"  
><strong>¡Revisad! ¿Por favor? ¡Sus opiniones cuentan!<strong>

**It's me again—****_duh_****. The next chappy is longer than the previous one. **:D** As always, I hope y'all enjoy it. Tell you what, the more reviews I get, the longer I'll start making the chapters, 'kay? That sound good? Good.**

**So, on with the show!**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. April 1913, early spring.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Lacking automail. Pickpocket. Older Elric brother. Age 14. Secrets finally revealed.  
>|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human. Hair color from the first anime. A pickpocket, as well. Younger Elric brother. Age 13. Surprises, anyone...?<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.  
>|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ: First Lieutenant.<br>|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Lieutenant Colonel.  
>|All three retain their respective ages.<br>|All o' the characters keep their original personalities and appearances.**

**Muchas gracias, **_awesomenaruto_ **for being my beta. **^_^

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 6 :.<br>ᴇ** **x** **ᴘ** **ᴏ** **s** **ᴇ** **ᴅ** **–** **f** **o** **r** **c** **i** **b** **l** **y  
>[<strong>_The secretive orphans and the subjugator_**]**

* * *

><p>Through the haze of black, Ed heard a car door slam shut. It took a little while more for him to recognize the sound for what it was and make the connection.<p>

He was in a car, but why? He didn't remember getting into one.

What did he remember, anyway? He had been running, he knew that much. Someone had been chasing him and his brother. There had been a blonde woman with a gun. That's it: he had stolen a silver pocket watch from a man and the guy had gotten angry and gone after him. A second man had caught up with him. And the black haired man wearing the narrow glasses had always seemed to be right there, no matter where Ed went; the teen just couldn't get away. Ed had been caught, and then he had felt sick; _been _sick, actually. What about the other two adults? The lady had left him, probably to help the first man chase after…Alphonse!

Ed's eyes snapped open as he remembered. Where was Al? Had he been captured? The blond boy struggled into a sitting position, wincing at the pounding in his skull. His vision cleared and he could see a window next to him.

Peering through it, Ed saw three adults—the ones who'd been pursuing him—talking together. The taller man with glasses reached toward the dark bundle that the shorter man was carrying. The bundle, in turn, shifted away, even flailing around when they didn't leave it alone. It was obviously a human, probably a child.

When the struggling got worse, the shorter man gently but quickly set the kid on the ground.

Ed's stomach dropped. It was Al; they had his little brother! The little boy was shaking his head adamantly as they spoke to him. When the woman took a step closer, Al moved back apprehensively and awkwardly got to his knees. Ed was outraged to see that his brother's hands were apparently bound behind his small back.

"Al–" he started to shout into the window, then stopped to cough. "Al! Alphonse!" But when he tried to bang on the cold glass, there was a metallic jingle from his wrist. Looking down, Edward saw the silver handcuff that encircled his wrist and the metal chain leading from it, which had been attached to part of the inner door handle.

Muttering a few choice words under his breath, Ed snatched the pin hidden in his coat and deftly jammed it into the lock of the cuffs. It took him a little longer than normal, considering he had to use his non-dominant left hand, but Ed still had the lock picked and clicking open in under a minute.

That done, the blond wasted no time in tearing open the car door and tumbling out.

"What–" was all that the female officer got out before Ed was running toward them, shouting.

"Stop it! Leave him alone!" he exclaimed. He shoved past the tallest officer, who was kneeling before the younger boy, and dropped to his knees. "Al! Are you okay?" He wrapped his arms around the younger protectively before pulling back and looking into his eyes.

"Brother," Al said, relief all-too obvious in his voice. He looked down. "I think I hurt my ankle." The boy indicated the swollen appendage with a nod of his head.

With all the gentleness he could muster, Edward fingered the injury, feeling it and testing the extent of the damage, frowning when he also noticed the scratches on Alphonse's knees. Al had a pained expression on his face.

"I think it's just a sprain," Ed finally concluded, caressing the tender area. "I can find something cold for it, maybe some snow…" He looked up. _Or _maybe he couldn't. All three adults were standing over the Elric brothers with stern expressions upon their faces. He felt like a trapped animal and had to resist the inclination to bare his teeth.

The man whom Ed had stolen from had his arms folded across his chest, looking unimpressed. After a second, he spoke, "I don't believe we've properly met. Care to tell me your name?"

Sneering, Ed responded, "You first."

The man replied with a smirk, "Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. And you?"

Edward looked away in stubborn refusal. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the woman roll her eyes slightly at his childish action.

The Flame Alchemist looked slightly annoyed. However, he seemed to shrug it off as he addressed Ed's little brother, "So, your name's Al, huh? Tell me, _Al_, what were you and your brother doing out in the back alleys in this cold weather? Don't your parents mind?"

"We don't have any," Alphonse responded truthfully. Ed felt like smacking his brother upside the head for revealing such things about them. It was already bad enough that they knew Alphonse's name and that the two were brothers.

"So you're orphans?" the woman concluded.

"No," snapped Ed. "We live here and we don't need any parents. We're brothers; we have each other and that's all we need or will ever need."

"That's what orphans are: kids who don't have parents. And I highly doubt that either of you are eighteen." Mustang eyed their small forms critically. "Why aren't you in an orphanage?"

Edward snorted disdainfully before muttering, "We don't belong in any orphanage."

"And why's that?" the other man finally spoke up, even sounding a little interested. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Hey," the young golden-blond retorted impatiently, "we don't go on interrogating you about your lives, so don't do it to us."

"Well," Mustang said in a condescending tone, "_we _don't go around robbing persons of their property. _Particularly _the pocket watches of State Alchemists."

"Yeah, yeah," Edward said sullenly. He didn't like the company of so many strangers. "We kinda needed the money. But you got your stupid watch back and chased us all over the place. Can't you just leave us alone now?" He leaned slightly closer to his silent brother.

"Sorry, no can do." The guy with the glasses finally brought himself down to their level. "Even if Roy lets you both off the hook for this, we can't just leave a couple of children on the streets so they can scrounge around for food and shelter and occasionally rob people. Especially when those children aren't in the best of health. It's just not something we can just let pass."

Edward bristled. "Why not? It's _your _fault Al got hurt in the first place!"

"Well, then you should have kept your grubby fingers to yourself!" the Flame Alchemist rebuked huffily.

The older boy was nearing the end of his rope. It didn't help that each and every one of his means of escape were rapidly diminishing in number. "_I _can take care of _my own _brother! You don't have to worry about him."

The unnamed man adjusted his glasses. "Last time I checked, kid, you weren't in the best of health, either." His eyebrows were quirked in a way that clearly said, "_You know I have a point_".

Edward averted his gaze. "Not your problem," he mumbled. He was loath to admit it, but he was getting a little scared by now. This could be bad.

The guy clicked his tongue. "No, it kind of is our problem. So why don't you just make it easy and come with us."

Al spoke up at last. "Where? Where do you want to take us?"

The crouching guy turned his attention to the copper haired brother. "Well, probably first to a doctor to get you boys checked out. After that, an orphanage would–"

"No!" the older brother interjected fiercely. The others seemed taken aback by his sudden outburst. "You can't! We're not going! You can't make us go!" His heart was thudding and his throat was closing up again in warning.

"Hughes," the Flame Alchemist chastised and quickly grabbed hold of Edward's arms, trapping them behind his back. "Alright, that's it. Come on." He hauled the youth to his feet.

Ed panicked as he was pulled away from Al and felt cold metal deftly encircle his wrists. "No! _No! _Al, run!" But the man whose name appeared to be "Hughes" had grabbed hold of Alphonse's virtually immobile arm while the blonde officer attempted to pick him up. "_No_!" To his immense frustration, Edward began coughing yet again. He fought to get air into his lungs, straining against Mustang. "Don't let them—" Ed hacked, "—find out…!"

His words died in his throat.

The world seemed to almost freeze as Hughes tried to aid his female companion and readjusted Al's black jacket—the one Alphonse had been so diligent about keeping on.

As the hood slid off, Edward felt his heart, stomach, and possibly even lungs plummet down to somewhere below his ankles in horror. His knees seemed to stop working as well.

It was a familiar enough sight to him, but not to these military people. This assumption was proven as the lady almost dropped the boy and Hughes briefly recoiled. Edward wanted to cover his ears before the inevitable was said, but was prevented from doing so. He inwardly flinched as Hughes awed. "He's…_a chimera_," the man murmured, staring at the copper, feline ears perched atop the younger Elric's head.

Sagging in Mustang's grip, Ed found himself faintly appreciative of the fact that he couldn't quite breathe. Not only because the lack of air prevented the painful assault on his lungs from continuing, but also because he felt that, had he been able to draw breath, he might have cried in despair at the moment he felt his own hood being slid backward.

He knew they were looking at his own similarly animalistic features.

It was over. And he didn't want to imagine what these people might do with him and his brother now.

* * *

><p><strong>...Hee-hee? <strong>  
><strong>No, wait! I seriously already had this all planned out. Honest! <strong>**_Don't go_****!**

**Believe me, I kept stressing to my sister about being nervous for this part. Like: "I'mkindanervous becauseI'mgoingtouse aplotdevicethatI seealltooftenmerelyfor fanservicereasonsand whilethosecanbe niceIwantedtodoamostly seriousstorybutitstill involvesthatparticulardevice …and…I'mjustapprehensive thatpeoplemightnot takethestoryasseriously onceIrevealiteventhough it'sbeenplannedout fromthebeginingandit's fairlyseriousoratleast asseriousasitisrightnow withabitofhumoror angstandfluffwherever Icanfititin…!" ***pant*

**...Lo siento si I made your eyes bleed with that. **orz  
><strong>Um...review? And vote en mi poll, too! <strong>ˆUˆ

**Review if you wanna have longer chapters!**** |  
>| Your opinion matters. |<strong>

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	7. ғ ᴇ ʟ ɪ ɴ ᴇ – b r o t h e r s

**Dos cosas,** **primera en español:**  
><strong>¡Hola vosotras! Tengo vuestro capítulo semanal~ ¿Para qué lo queréis? ¡Revisad!<strong>

**Segunda en inglés:**  
><strong>Go translate that yourselves.<strong> **Anyway, the chaps are gettin' longer! So, if I can get, say like, 10 - 15 reviews, I'll extend the next chapter. That sound good? Oki-doke~ And once again, vote in that little ol' poll.**

**De todos modos, thanks, **_awesomenaruto_** for being my beta. :)**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon. Amestris.**  
><strong>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. 1913, early spring. Beginning of April.<strong>  
><strong>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Pickpocket. Older Elric brother. Age 14. Chimera. <strong>  
><strong>|Alphonse Elric: No armor. A pickpocket. Age 13. Chimera.<strong>  
><strong>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. The Flame Alchemist.<strong>  
><strong>|Rɪᴢᴀ Hᴀᴡᴋᴇʏᴇ: First Lieutenant.<strong>  
><strong>|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Lieutenant Colonel. Married.<strong>  
><strong>|All retain their respective ages.<strong>  
><strong>|All the characters keep their original appearances from the first anime—that's just 'cause there're more hair colors so I don't sound repetitive—and personalities.<strong>

**Os presento: ʜᴇʀᴍᴀɴᴏs — felinos .**

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 7 :.<br>ғ** **ᴇ** **ʟ** **ɪ** **ɴ** **ᴇ** **– ****b ****r ****o ****t ****h ****e ****r ****s  
>[<strong>_The chimera and the speechless_**]**

* * *

><p>Roy took a moment to gape at what was before him. Astonishment aside, he didn't know whether to feel pity or revulsion toward the boys.<p>

How could something like this have come to pass?

"Sir?" He looked to Riza, who was looking at him in an uncertain and inquiring way. Roy looked from the now silent and scared captive in the woman's arms, to the limp one he himself was supporting from under their arms. He wanted to drop the kid—thing, whatever it was—but that would be unprofessional. Instead, his mind was whirling, trying to determine an appropriate course of action.

It was Maes who burst into his thoughts with, "They don't seem too dangerous."

The colonel turned his attention to the other man. "Hughes, they're _chimera_.**(1)** We can't go on what they _seem _like."

"They're also _children_, Roy, and that's all we have _to _go on at the moment."

"They're only half children, though; they're also half animal!"

"But they're still children, nonetheless."

"Yeah, well what do you propose we do with them?" Mustang asked, growing slightly irritated.

"I say we do what we were going to do: load them up in the car and take them–"

"An orphanage won't take them."

Hughes rolled his eyes. "I know. But I'm not going to leave them out here on the streets. Besides the fact that they're too young to be living on their own, I'm sure that if we left them here, they'd end up robbing a few other people."

"Then where do we take them?"

"Your place." The man held up a hand to silence his companion before he could interrupt. "I say this because Riza's ruled out on account of her owning a dog. I doubt Black Hayate would take too kindly to these boys. And it can't be my house because I have a wife and daughter there. I don't think bringing…these—" He gestured to the silent pickpockets, "—home would go over very peacefully and would simply be cause for more stress."

Roy bit his lip in indecision. He knew his friend had perfectly valid points, yet, he wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of housing two chimera-freaks.

Hughes spoke again as he walked over. "It wouldn't be permanent; just until we can find somewhere else better. We can decide what to do from there." Roy wondered what his friend meant by "better". Who would want to take in a chimera, besides some nut-case scientist? Still, he allowed the other man to take the youth from him, lifting the blond into his arms, and walking over and setting him in the backseat of the car. The kid didn't say a word, his eyes averted downward. That done, he motioned for Hawkeye to do the same.

Mustang nodded an affirmative in her direction when she hesitated. Then, reluctantly, he climbed into the front seat, watching as Riza climbed in next to him, and Hughes slid into the back seat alongside the boys.

Roy hoped he didn't wind up regretting this.

* * *

><p>Maes Hughes set the inert blond boy on the couch in Roy's house. Both kids had seemed rather listless on the ride over, which had concerned the man slightly at first. But when they had arrived and he'd made a move to take the copper haired one, Al, the other brother had immediately wrapped his legs tightly around his brother's waist, his own hands trapped behind his back. The blond had glared at Hughes with a scared, yet stubborn protectiveness in his golden eyes as he pulled his apparently sleeping brother closer.<p>

It had taken them nearly ten minutes of struggling—threats, defensive retorts, many reassurances, and finally, a cocked gun from Riza—to get them untangled. But they had done it.

Riza, carrying the sleeping Al, was preceded by Maes carrying the other boy, who had nonverbally insisted on positioning himself so that he could look over Maes' shoulder the whole time to intently watch over his brother.

Mustang just stood uneasily to the side as they deposited their cargo on his sofa. He obviously still didn't trust the human-chimera.

Without another word, Maes stood and went to the medicine cabinet. There, he grabbed some bandages and almost some antiseptic, but decided against it—he wouldn't trust their guests to react well to it. He also grabbed a washcloth and a bowl of water.

When he returned, he caught a glimpse of Riza's back as Roy let her out the door.

At a raised eyebrow, Roy explained, "She's gonna go down and clear up some things at the office for us."

"Tell her thanks," Maes said before setting the items he held on the floor in front of the couch. He, too, knelt there, facing the brothers who were now together again, as if drawn to each other by some magnetic force. "Can I trust you?" he asked unexpectedly, lifting the key to the handcuffs from his pocket. The golden-blond eyed the piece of metal hungrily and nodded. The green-eyed man looked sternly at him. "I wanna hear you say it."

"…Fine. I won't run away," came the hoarse confirmation from the kid. At a glance to the still-suspicious colonel, he rolled his eyes, continuing, "Or try to kill you or maim you or anything." Roy snorted and left into the kitchen.

Hughes chuckled slightly and reached around to unlock the cuffs. With a _click_, they were off. The young teen massaged his wrists. "What about Al?"

"I'll get to your brother in a minute." Actually, Hughes merely didn't trust both boys unbound. "Let me see your hand. I wanna clean that cut." He indicated the gash on the back of the small hand. The teen regarded Hughes warily, pulling the hand in question closer to his chest, the catlike ears upon his head folding back in an animalistic way. But Hughes just dipped the washcloth in the bowl and proffered it on his own hand. He knew that the boy wasn't stupid enough to leave an injury like that un-cleaned when he had an opportunity to clean it.

So he at last relented, looking away ashamedly as if to deny his submission. Hughes gently slid the cloth over the wound. He was sort of surprised that the boy never flinched once. When he had cleaned it adequately, he wrapped a white bandage around the hand and immediately dipped the cloth back in the water again.

This time, however, he held out the dripping fabric to the chimera-boy. The boy was taken aback at first and stared at Hughes' green eyes confusedly. "What?" he asked guardedly.

Maes just nodded his head to the sleeping Al. "I take it you'd like to do him yourself? Or, at least, you don't want me messing with your little brother."

The teen nodded slowly and grabbed the cloth from the lieutenant colonel. Immediately, he went to work on his sibling.

Maes watched as the golden-eyed teenager tenderly wiped the washcloth over Al's cuts and scrapes, leaning to re-dip the towel every once-in-a-while, then continuing. He would occasionally run his fingers through the dark goldenrod hair and mutter things under his breath to the sleeping brother. While the yet-unnamed brother's feline ears were the same golden-color as his hair at the base of the ears and fading to an off-white near the tips, the other brother's unique appendages were the exact shade as his honey-brown hair, a fair bit fluffier than the blond's. They would occasionally twitch with the teen's ministrations—the kids didn't appear to have any human ears. Down one pant leg, Hughes saw a small amount of movement every-so-often, which he grew to suspect might be a tail. All in all, it was very heartwarming to watch.

Eventually, though, the chimera-boy noticed Hughes' observances and almost immediately ceased his fondling.

Hughes hurriedly tried to start up conversation. "So, is 'Al' short for anything?"

He received a glower in response. All the same, after a few calculating glances, the teen answered, "Alec. It's short for Alec."

"And do you have a name?"

"Ed…mund. It's Edmund."

"Well, Edmund, I know it might not be any of my business, but…how did you come by…" Hughes gestured to the kitty ears, "those, exactly?"

The ears in question flattened a little. After a little while, the homeless kid's eyes dropped. "It's a long story. And I don't see any reason to tell it to you."

"Fair enough," admitted Hughes, still interested, "but us knowing might help your situation."

"How?" was the distrusting, doubtful query.

"Well, _not _knowing would just make things more complicated." There was no reply. With a heavy sigh, Maes pushed himself to his feet and turned. "I'll be just a minute. I trust you not to run off?" Again, no response.

He walked into the kitchen to see Roy stirring a bowl of something in preparation for supper. "Well?" Mustang asked over his shoulder at his friend's approaching footsteps.

"You know anyone who's in the medical practice, good with both boys _and _cats, and can be trusted?"

"I can look into it. Get anywhere with 'em?"

"Their names. Though, I'm not sure how reliable they are. But nothing else."

"…They try to kill you?"

Maes snorted ruefully and took the bowl and spoon from Roy. "Um, no."

"Good. 'Cause if they don't, I will."

* * *

><p><strong>(1) As far as I can tell, <strong>**_chimera_**** is one of those words that's never plural, like "deer" and "fish".**

* * *

><p><strong>Well? Any feedback? Does this story still manage to be good in spite of having that horribly cliché plot device? <strong>:)

**Will you give me reviews...? They make me happy!**

**About that poll– Huh?**

**Oh, you want more?**

**Is that it? …**

**Eh...okay. Read on, young grasshopper.**

* * *

><p>That night, Hughes stayed at Roy's house, just for safe measure.<p>

He had called Gracia to tell her that he'd be staying over to do some important work. And, though his wife hadn't seemed very happy at the information, she had let it go without anything beyond the normal questions.

That settled, Maes made his way back to the living room to be with their new "guests". Roy had gone into another room upstairs to make some arrangements, which mostly consisted of calls to Riza—she being the efficient woman that she was.

Meanwhile, Maes just sat there, chin resting on his folded hands, watching the brothers. He noticed that the sleeping one's handcuffs were no longer present and he doubted that it was Roy who had released the kid. Well, these _were _pickpockets; it wouldn't surprise him if they could pick locks, too. Still, he didn't comment on it.

They remained in that fashion until about one o'clock in the morning, when the still-awake Ed broke the silence with, "Why are you still here? Shouldn't you go to bed or something?"

"Shouldn't you?" was the comeback.

Ed rolled his eyes. "Sorry, but I'm not about to close my eyes with you still here. You can hardly expect me to trust you."

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the same way."

Silence reigned once more.

It was over half an hour later that a bleary-eyed Roy trudged down the stairs and into the living room. He dropped a scrawled-on piece of paper into Maes' lap and mumbled with a big yawn, "T'morrow mornin', seve' thir'y, I'm beat. Goin' t' bed." With that, the colonel disappeared back up the stairs, most likely into his bedroom.

Hughes picked up the page and tried to read the illegible handwriting. After failing three times, he gave up and sighed in the general direction of Roy's room upstairs. "You'd better be able to read this, or at least remember it by tomorrow…"

Ed didn't inquire as to the nature of the paper, just stared intently at Hughes. This could be a long night.

* * *

><p><strong>Jiji~ Aren't I kind? I gave you a whole nother section! Alright, it wasn't <strong>**_that _****long. But it wouldn't be there if I hadn't added it. So..if you'd just give me some reviews… ¿Sí?**

**Take a moment to imagine how many reviews I'd have if each one of my watchers left a comment? It'd be, like, heavenly. **:D **Remember, if no one comments, I presume nobody likes. **T_T

**| Critical advice loved! Don't be shy to ask about something that doesn't make sense, either. |**

**| And you can review at any time, whether this was posted yesterday, two weeks ago, or three years ago! |  
>| Just click this button below! |<br>| It'll make my day. |**

**| ¡Gracias! |**


	8. ɪ ʀ ᴋ s ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ – a p p o i n t m e n t

**Hola nuevamente. ¡Este es mi capítulo más largo! ¿Os gusta? Bueno.** **Y, recordéis, ¡revisad si vosotras queráis revisar los capítulos de largos! Jaja~ **^_^

**Hello! **  
><strong>Sorry this is so late; I couldn't log on half the day and, when I could, the site kicked me off when I was about to upload. I've been tryin' for <strong>**_hours. _**:(** Ugh, I'm so tired... Oh, yeah. There's a button at the bottom of this page called: **Review this Chapter**. It's really fun to click. Try it. Alright, chicas—and maybe a chico or two—I want feedback! This is my longest chapter so far~ Lemmie know if you like it! **:)

**Oh, and I'm still not jokin' about that poll. It's, like, the magic encourage-the-author-to-plan-out-the-story-according-to-your-wishes thingie...or at least at close as you can get next to reviewing. **:D

**Thank you, my loverly **_awesomenaruto_** for betareading this!**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Early spring, 1913. Beginning of April.<br>|Eᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Lacking automail. Cat-chimera. Pickpocket. Older Elric brother, age 14.  
>|Aʟ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human– er...sorta. Cat-chimera. Pickpocket. Younger Elric brother, age 13.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. The Flame Alchemist.  
>|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Lieutenant Colonel. Married to Gracia.<br>|Sᴀʀᴀ Rᴏᴄᴋʙᴇʟʟ: Alive and well. Doctor. Mid-thirties.  
>|Urey Rᴏᴄᴋʙᴇʟʟ: Also alive. Doctor. Late-thirtiesearly-fourties.  
>|All characters retain their respective ages in accordance with each other.<br>|And all of the characters keep their original appearances and personalities.**

**Without further ado, I present to you, ɪ** **ɴ** **ᴄ** **ᴏ́** **ᴍ** **ᴏ** **ᴅ** **ᴀ — c** **i** **t** **a. Enjoy~**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>**  
>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-<p>

* * *

><p><strong>.: 8 :.<br>ɪ** **ʀ** **ᴋ** **s** **ᴏ** **ᴍ** **ᴇ — a** **p** **p** **o** **i** **n** **t** **m** **e** **n** **t  
>[<strong>_The stubborn anomalies and a bystander_**]**

* * *

><p>Alphonse had every right to be as confused as he was when he woke up. Not only was he in a new place with unfamiliar sounds and smells, but he had no idea how he'd gotten there and two of the strangers who had captured the brothers were watching him. On top of that, he was actually warm and suspected that most, if not all, of his cuts and scraped had been cleaned.<p>

Edward was beside him, speaking angrily to the man who had been named as Colonel Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist. "We're not going _anywhere _with you."

"It's for your own good!"

"Yeah, because you know I trust _everything _you say!"

"Edmund…! If not for your sake, then at least for your brother's!"

Al wrinkled his nose. "_Edmund_"? It didn't take much to figure out that that was the name Ed was probably going by. "Brother?" Al asked upon seeing Ed turn to look at him.

"Al, you're awake! How do you feel?"

"My head kinda hurts, but I feel much better than I did earlier," the goldenrod haired boy admitted truthfully.

Mustang jumped on the response. "See?"

Edward ignored the man. Concern radiated off the older Elric as he felt Al's face. "I think you have a little bit of a fever."

"You both probably do," Mustang interrupted again, impatiently. "Which is why we're going. Now get your butts up off my couch before we're late. I spent _hours _on the phone for this and I _will _sedate you!"

"I'd like to see you try!"

Mustang huffed at that and marched out of the room. As soon as he was gone, Edward began quickly filling Al in on everything that had happened. The occasional glance was shot at the man Hughes, who stood in the kitchen doorway with a steaming mug of coffee in his hands.

A couple hours of sitting on the couch and refusing to converse with the adults later, there was a knock on the door. Mustang, who'd been sitting with a newspaper, rose and immediately strode over to answer it—Hughes had already excused himself for a quick nap.

"Colonel Mustang, I take it?" came a woman's voice from outside.

"Yes," he confirmed.

"And you're the one who called us out on this…special case?" came a different voice, this time a man's.

Mustang nodded and stepped aside to let the newcomers in. "You must be the doctors Rockbell. Sorry for the inconvenience, but they wouldn't budge."

"That's quite alright," said the female as she entered the house. "I'd actually be surprised if they'd go anywhere with you." The woman, who seemed to be about thirty or so, was of average height with braided, chest-length brunette hair and compassionate, yet tenacious cobalt blue eyes.

She was followed by a man, whom Al guessed, based on the conversation, was either her brother or husband. More likely husband, considering the only feature they shared were their blue eyes. Besides the matching eye color, the man had medium blond hair, stood a few inches taller than his supposed wife, and carried a black medical bag in his left hand. He looked to be in his late thirties to early forties.

The woman, presumably Mrs. Rockbell, swiftly and efficiently took in the Elrics with a glance, showing no hint of surprise at their atypical bodies. "I'm Dr. Rockbell. This is my husband, also Dr. Rockbell, so you can just call us Mis'ess or Mister Rockbell to avoid confusion. You're Edmund and Alec?"

Ed nodded from beside Al, trepidation stiffening his neck.

Mr. Rockbell set down his medical bag on one of the arms of the sofa next to him. "The colonel here called on us in hopes that we could give you boys a good checkup. How does that sound?" Alphonse was observant enough to detect the placating tone in both the doctors' voices. These people were at least practiced in dealing with those who didn't wish to be dealt with.

Edward looked to his little brother at the question, as if it were the younger who would be making the decision. And Alphonse realized that that was most likely the case here. Not knowing what to do, Al just looked helplessly up at the female doctor.

Mrs. Rockbell gave a sympathetic smile and slowly, but unwaveringly stepped over to the brothers. She held out a hand to Al, though why, he didn't quite comprehend. Ed snorted and disdainfully said, "We're chimera, not animals; we don't want to lick or sniff you or anything gross like that."

Mrs. Rockbell chuckled good-naturedly and withdrew her hand. "Well, we can never be too sure. You're not the first chimera we've met, y'know." Alphonse wanted to ask questions about the elusive statement but, noticing his older brother's failure to take the bait of conversation, he did likewise. After an awkward couple seconds of silence, Mrs. Rockbell bent down to sit on her heels and spoke again, "Tell me, Alec, how old are you?"

Once again, Al looked to Ed for permission to reveal any true information about themselves. Ed nodded his reluctant consent before returning his attention to the husband, who was going through his bag.

"Thirteen," Alphonse answered. He knew that he looked a year or so younger than he was; both Elrics did.

"And how long have you been a chimera?"

"Eight or nine years."

"Your brother, too?"

"Mm-hmm."

"You have some handsome-looking ears there." No response. Only an uncomfortable glance to the left. "May I take a look at them?"

And there had begun the lengthy examination. While the female physician tended to the younger Elric, the male had the job of the elder. The much more difficult of the two, it would turn out, as Ed insisted on being able to see his little brother the whole time, watching Mrs. Rockbell like a hawk no matter how gentle she was with the honey-brown haired boy. The golden-blond had become almost feral when the matter of Al's ankle came to hand. However, the injury was pronounced just a sprain and would, in all likelihood, heal within a couple of weeks.

After that, the examination had extended further, up under the boys' shirts checking heart rates, breathing, and looking for broken bones, and then down their arms and legs, checking for any other injuries. Judging by her expression upon discovering Al's bushy tail, Mrs. Rockbell thought the appendage was charming. Edward kept his own white-tipped one hidden until Mr. Rockbell had finally made him pull it out to examine for breaks and such.

When the doctors had finished looking here, feeling there, and prodding a few other places, they spent several minutes asking the boys various questions. Most were ordinary, a few were a little confusing, some were flat-out refused to be answered, and there were others that were awkward to the point that neither child would respond in anything above an abashed mumble.

All during the procedure, Mustang stood off to the side inconspicuously, answering a question for the boys when he could—he received sharp golden-eyed glares on most such occasions—and retrieving something for the doctors a few times. But mostly, he just stood there like a pillar, likely ready to jump in if either chimera caused trouble.

Which was exactly what happened when Al watched the doctor, whose wife addressed him as "Urey", pull out a syringe from his bag.

* * *

><p>Though Ed was looking down at his knees, out of the corner of his eye, he was clandestinely watching his little brother with the female doctor beside him. He didn't trust her; he didn't trust either doctor. Heck, he couldn't honestly say he trusted any of these strangers.<p>

Why should he? What assurance did he have that one of them wouldn't up and haul him and Al to some lab to be experimented on? To be tested, poked and prodded, stuck with needles…

The young blond shuddered at the horrid idea. No. That wouldn't happen; he would keep a good eye on the man before him…who was pulling _something _out of that black bag. And that _something _made Ed's heart skip a beat.

The boy's muscles tightened all throughout his body as he felt panic tug at the back of his brain. His nostrils flared and he sank back into the couch, sudden fear making him feel sick all over again. This couldn't be happening. Cold sweat pricked along his hairline and forehead, triggering a shiver to run down his spine. He had to get away, and fast! He was off the couch the second the man turned to him, needle in hand.

"Ed– Edmund? What are you doing? Hey, what's the matter?" As the man spoke, Ed was retreating backward, lip twitching in what was threatening to form into a snarl. Mr. Rockbell took a confused step toward the boy, who hurriedly backed up more. Then…

_Al!_

His little brother was seated alongside Mrs. Rockbell and looking uncomfortably out the window as she spoke. "Al! Get away! Don't trust them!"

Snapping to attention, Alphonse immediately obeyed, no questions asked. The younger Elric pushed Mrs. Rockbell away and scrambled off the couch and across the room—or, _tried _to. Having seemingly forgotten about his previously acquired injury, the thirteen year-old couldn't help but yelp as he applied weight to his now-bandaged ankle, promptly dropping to his knees.

"Al!" Ed shouted in concern.

"Edmund, hey, calm down," Mr. Rockbell was saying, starting to approach him, but Edward paid him no heed. Instead, the teen leaped forward and shoved past Mr. Rockbell. "Whoa–"

Before Mrs. Rockbell could act, Edward was beside his little brother, awkwardly trying to pull the younger to his feet. Largely failing at this, he, more-or-less, dragged Al with him, supporting him under the arms while Al awkwardly used one foot to help the pair along as best he could.

"Hold it," came the voice of Mustang as the man quickly strode over toward them.

Alphonse was instantly deposited on the floor—where he quickly scooted back a foot or so into the corner of the room by the front door—as Edward spun to confront the alchemist. "Get away from us!" he snapped, ears lying back in a feral way.

The whole episode was over in under ten seconds, but Ed's heart was pounding like he'd just run a few miles. He faced Mustang in a slight crouch, eyes flicking between the black haired man before him, and the two doctors. His tail twitched back and forth tensely.

"What's wrong with him?" Ed heard the female doctor ask.

"Obviously, something upset him," answered the husband. He was bent forward a little with his hands on his knees, peering at the boys. Then, "Edmund? What happened? What's wrong?"

"You just stay away from us," Ed warned, hostility reverberating throughout the demand.

The man's wife, who was sitting on the couch beside him, asked, "Have they ever behaved like this before?"

"Not that I know of… Well, no, not really. I mean…not like _this_."

"Stop talking like we're not here!" Ed burst out in annoyance. "Like we're just animals or something!" The word _animals _echoed with burning resentment.

"That would be easy if you'd stop acting like it," Mustang snapped. "All cowering in the corner like that…"

"Then stop treating us like it!" His voice cracked on the last word, the soreness from the day before blossoming anew in his throat and the rest of his body. "I'm not about to let you go sticking us with needles, either!" This time, his head throbbed painfully and his knees and lower legs seemed to lose their strength, as if the bones had been replaced with jelly or rubber or something equally as pliable and incapable of supporting him.

"You're–! Whoa, no you _don't_." It was the voice of the Flame Alchemist as Edward fought to keep his balance, stumbling and grabbing onto the doorknob.

"Brother?!"

His vision grayed for a moment then cleared. Feeling the arm around his waist, he had enough sense to struggle, yelling a jumble of, "Lemmiego, lemmiegolemmiego_rightnow_!"

"What is going _on _here?" demanded a male. A new voice, so probably Hughes, maybe? Ed didn't know. His vision was blurring again, his body weighed down with the fatigue of the past day or so.

He really was so tired. But what about Alphonse? He couldn't leave his little brother with these people…

But the world was fading away, noises sounding like they were swirling around a tunnel. Inky blackness set in.

He needed to protect Al…

* * *

><p>Once again, Edward found himself in complete darkness. He wanted to scowl in frustration but he didn't quite have control over his facial muscles yet. He felt so tired…<p>

His thoughts were swimming around his head as his senses gradually returned one-by-one. First came touch: Ed was lying on something firm, yet comfortable. Too rough for a bed but strangely familiar and cushiony. A couch. Taste came along with the first sense. His mouth tasted awful and was really dry. He also became aware of something unpleasantly cool laid across his forehead. It was damp, too.

But he wasn't cold.

Then he could smell. A faint odor of smoke tainted with aftershave tickled his nose. There was no breeze—he must be inside?—and he could smell a few other human bodies in the room. Maybe a few unidentifiable chemicals, as well.

After that came the sound, which he wasn't aware he was missing until it came rushing back. There were voices all around him. No more than five, but it sounded like a cacophony as his sensitive ears adjusted.

"…all in all." It was the voice of an adult female. "Exhaustion can do that." The voice faded and became muted, as if Ed had just been plunged underwater. Then it came back strong, "…to reduce stress. They don't need any more."

A man's voice was speaking next. "We'll write down some instructions for you to follow. Also…" Edward felt something against his hand. "…for knowing which…" It was another hand. "…fed again."

"But what about…" a tired-sounding man spoke. The hand was smaller than his own. _Alphonse_. "…like…" Edward squeezed the hand hesitantly.

"Brother?"

"Too young–" The conversation stopped.

"Is he waking up?" asked the woman's voice. Mrs. Rockbell, Ed recalled. The teen's eyelids were heavy and didn't want to open. Struggling with them for a minute, he finally managed to pry them apart, letting light stream in. He winced; the light was sharp contrast to the darkness behind closed eyelids. And it brought back the throb of a headache he had forgotten.

Nevertheless, Ed kept them open after blinking a few times. There was a face hovering above him. Blonde hair, blue eyes: Mrs. Rockbell. "Ge'way fr'me," Ed slurred. His tongue apparently wasn't functioning quite yet.

"Brother, are you alright?!" Guilt attacked Ed at the urgency and concern in his younger brother's voice.

"'M fine…just–"

"No sitting up yet," Mrs. Rockbell ordered, hand on his chest at the boy's attempt to rise. He sent her a venomous glare but was too tired to fight back. "You gave us a bit of a scare, there. Can you drink a little water for me?" The unanticipated question was followed with a glass being held before his mouth. His lips closed, ever distrustful. "You're dehydrated." It wasn't working. "Edmund, it's not poisoned; your brother drank from it."

Ed wished he could turn his stiff neck to see his brother beside him, but the assuring, "It's fine, Brother. It's not bad or anything. Really," was good enough to convince him. His throat was crying out for it.

"There we go," the blonde woman encouraged as Ed parted his lips and she poured a little water into his mouth.

He swallowed greedily, the cool liquid soothing his dry and sore throat. However, the doctor only gave him small sips at a time and retracted the glass all too soon, claiming that too much could make him sick and that she'd really rather not spend her evening cleaning Colonel Mustang's couch.

...Evening… How long had he been out?

"How are you feeling, Brother?"

Ed smiled as Al came into his line of sight, feeling more secure with his brother visible. "Told you I'm fine, Al. Didn't y'hear me the first time?"

"But you fainted!"

Ed blushed with shame. Self-conscious, he also remembered and removed the moist washcloth from his forehead. He gripped it in his free hand. "Yeah, well, I'm fine now. Let's just get outta here so we can–"

"You two aren't going anywhere," interjected Mrs. Rockbell.

"And why not?" Edward challenged indignantly.

"Because, not only are you boys in no condition to be out on the streets, but Colonel Mustang and Lieutenant Colonel Hughes inform me that, given you take to picking pockets, they have the authority to incarcerate both of you if they so choose. So I suggest you stay put."

Ed gaped. Then the golden-blond shot a resentful glare over to Mustang and Hughes, who were engaged in a heated discussion and oblivious to the poisonous scowl directed at them. Mr. Rockbell, too, was preoccupied with writing a long list of somethings on a clean sheet of paper.

The female physician pulled Ed's attention away again with, "Now, would you like to have some more water?"

* * *

><p><strong>Love it? Hate it? ¿Increíble o horrible? I won't know unless you click the <strong>Review this Chapter** (or just **Review** if you're on mobile) button! Why wouldn't you want to make the day of someone who's providing you with entertainment (when she should be working most of the time)? **^^"

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	9. ʙ ᴇ ɢ ʀ ᴜ ᴅ ɢ ɪ ɴ ɢ ʟ ʏ – h o u s e d

**¡Buenos días! No tengo tiempo suficiante para escribir a vosotras. Este es nuestra capítulo~ **  
><strong>Titulado de español: ᴀʟᴏᴊᴀᴅᴏs — cautelosamente. <strong>:)

**Hello~ I'll skip a lengthy A/N and just give you this chapter. This one isn't as long as the previous but, hey, it was surprisingly hard to write. No joke. **orz

**Please review, and I'm gonna be closin' the poll sometime this week, so give your opinion now! ...Before it's too late... **¬o¬  
><strong>Peppermints go out to<strong> _awesomenaruto_** for betareading for me~ ¡Muchas gracias! Now, read on!  
>...And review, too.<strong>

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris.**  
><strong>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Spring 1913. April 4th.<strong>  
><strong>|Eᴅ: Doesn't have automail. Cat-chimera and pickpocket. Age 14. <strong>  
><strong>|Aʟ: No armor. Cat-chimera and pickpocket. Age 13. <strong>  
><strong>|Rᴏʏ: Colonel, the Flame Alchemist.<strong>  
><strong>|Characters maintain their original appearances and personalities.<strong>

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>**  
>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-<p>

* * *

><p><strong>.: 9 :.<br>ʙ** **ᴇ** **ɢ** **ʀ** **ᴜ** **ᴅ** **ɢ** **ɪ** **ɴ** **ɢ** **ʟ** **ʏ — h** **o** **u** **s** **e** **d  
>[<strong>_The indisposed guests and a discontented man_**]**

* * *

><p>Roy sat on his couch, looking quite put out. His and Hughes' "debate" had not turned out in his favor. After a phone call to Hawkeye at his office and several long minutes of arguing about responsibility, convenience, matters of health, and "why you should be more open to them, Roy; they're just kids", Hughes had finally won with the irrefutable fact that <em>Roy <em>had a guest bedroom; _he _could most easily house them.

Also, the lieutenant colonel had passionately proclaimed that he couldn't stay away from his precious Gracia and dear little Elicia a day longer. Even though he was sure that, if he asked his wife, she'd forgive him for another overnighter for work, the fact remained that he had _not _asked her, wasn't planning to, and had apparently promised the previous night that it would be a onetime thing, anyway. So the man had left shortly after giving his superior some coaching tips about handling children.

On the plus side, Roy had to remind himself, Hawkeye and Hughes _had _agreed to trade off with him after a couple days. And that way, the Flame Alchemist wouldn't use up all his sick days at work at once—that was, Riza had informed him, the excuse she was giving for his absence at the office.

The two chimera-hybrids were on the sofa adjacent to his, the older watching Mustang suspiciously, the quiet, younger in a sound sleep that the Rockbell doctors had assured Roy was undoubtedly a minor side effect of the injection that they had given the child earlier that day. All the adults had determined it wise not to inform the older boy of what had gone on while he had been unconscious.

The Rockbells, satisfied with their examination of the boys, had left not half an hour ago with the promise of returning in a week. They'd also left their number with him along with several sheets of paper regarding Mustang's new charges.

Those were what the onyx-eyed man was currently reading at last.

**_Dr. Urey Rockbell_****  
>4. April. 1913<strong>

**Overview****:  
>Patient name: Edmund<br>Sex: m  
>Age: 14 yrs.<br>DOB: n/a — won't reveal.  
>Height: can't determine — won't stand up for us to measure him. Probably under 5'<br>Weight: can't determine — seems around 100 lbs.  
>Hair color: blond<br>Eye color: gold**

**Chimera, seemingly a domestic cat. Has been so for 8 to 9 yrs. Blond, white-tipped feline tail (approx. 2'5")extending from base of spine. Blond, white-tipped feline ears on top of head. No apparent normal/human ears. No other apparent physical abnormalities.**

**Health/concerns and instructions:  
>• <strong>**2" laceration on back of right hand****  
>injury healing properly<br>no stitches necessary**

**Do: disinfect and re-bandage daily  
>call if infection develops.<strong>

**• ****malnourished****  
>underweight and slightly emaciated<strong>

**Do: feed regularly starting out with easy/light foods such as soup and toast and/or rice  
>only feed small amounts at a time (half and quarter meal portions)<br>do not overfeed  
>do not force feed<br>call if there is significant refusal to eat.**

**• ****dehydrated****  
>may experience dizzy spells if upright for extended periods<strong>

**Do: give a glass of water between 5 and 10 min. intervals  
>ensure water is ingested in small sips — not too quickly<br>continue rehydrating until deemed unnecessary  
>limit physical activity until rehydrated<br>call if no considerable improvement is seen within a couple hours  
>call if significant water is refused<br>call if fever rises over 101˚ F.**

**• ****fatigued/exhausted****  
>causing fever and weakness<br>increasing stress levels  
>may be causing dizzinesslightheadedness and moodiness**

**Do: ensure adequate sleep is obtained  
>restrict excessive physical exertions<br>do not allow outside in cold temperatures for prolonged amounts of time  
>call in the case of high fever<br>call in the case of fainting spells.**

**• ****upper respiratory infection**

Blah, blah, blah. Mustang flipped through the rest of the pages, skimming over their contents without much interest and placing the papers on the coffee table. The last page was telling about things he ought to do, what might help out, and what _not _to do.

The next page was started in a different handwriting.

**_Dr. Sara Rockbell_****  
>4. April. 1913<strong>

**Overview:****  
>Patient name: Alec (Al)<br>Sex: male  
>Age: 14 years old<br>DOB: patient won't disclose  
>Height: somewhere around 5ft.<br>Weight: seems under approx. 100 pounds  
>Hair color: coppergold  
>Eye color: gray olive-green<strong>

**Patient has allegedly been a cat-chimera for 8 – 9 years. Has 2 cat ears on top of head and matching tail(slightly over 2 ft.) continuing from bottom of spine (both having the same color as patient's hair). Does not have natural human ears. Canine teeth could be possibly longer than others but it may just be normal growth. Does not appear to have any deviant appendages other than the aforementioned.**

**Health/concerns and instructions:  
><strong>**– sprained ankle****  
>swollen left ankle<br>moderate but not severe  
>should heal within 3 weeks<strong>

**Do: wrap injury for the next 42 hours  
>apply ice during the next day for 10 to 20 minutes every hour or until swelling goes down<br>restrict/limit patient from using injured ankle for a few days to one week  
>elevate injury whenever possible<br>administer painkillers if/when needed  
>call if severe pain forms<br>call if patient loses mobility of ankle.**

**– various cuts and bruises****  
>should heal within a couple weeks<strong>

**Do: watch out for any infectious developments  
>bandage if necessary.<strong>

**– malnourishment**

Roy browsed down some more, seeing that the notes were largely the same. He was surprised there was nothing mentioned about fleas.

**Environment changes will most likely cause stress that may manifest in poor behavior, bed**–

"Hey, give that back! I need those!" Roy abruptly exclaimed at the teen who had just grabbed the stack of discarded pages from the coffee table. The man reached out to snatch them away but the blond held them out of reach.

"Cool it," the boy reproved aversely. His voice was fringed with hoarseness from earlier. "I'm not hurting them. Besides, you're the one who dropped them on the table like you were done with them." With a wrinkled brow of disapproval, Ed watched the Flame Alchemist reluctantly settle back into his chair before asking, "What's so important about these, anyway?"

"Those are the papers the Mister and Mis'ess Rockbell wrote up about you and your brother. I have to read them if I'm gonna know how to take care of you so you don't randomly keel over when my back is turned."

Ed scowled and looked down at the papers in his hand. Then he tossed Roy a resentful look. "Al and I can take care of ourselves. And there's nothing in here that he and I wouldn't already know about ourselves."

"While both of those statements are debatable," Mustang scoffed and he saw the cat ears lower in vexation, "it still doesn't change that I can't picture you giving away all this information without a fight that could last at least a couple weeks." He distractedly looked back down to Al's papers in his hand. But upon receiving no snarky retort, Mustang glanced back up to see a perplexed expression residing on the teen's face.

The kid seemed to be contemplating between taking the man's latest allegation as a compliment or as an insult. Noticing the man watching him, Ed frowned and his ears went down farther. "Well, would you stop reading that right in front of me? It feels awkward."

Roy raised his eyebrows sarcastically. "Oh, _I'm _sorry. What was I thinking? Would you rather turn your back?" The blond ears were leveled with the mess of hair. Roy raised his papers and went back to finding his place, remarking, "Besides, this isn't your file; it's your brother's."

Up came the ears. "Yeah? …And what does it say?"

"You're asking me? I thought you and your brother already knew everything you needed to know about yourselves," the older man disputed derisively as his eyes rose from the page, a bemused smile hidden behind the top of the paper held before his face. "Why don't you just ask him?"

The boy's curiosity was replaced with petulant dislike. And Roy noted that the teen's atypical ears seemed to mimic the mood of his face; even when the pickpocket managed to conceal his expression, he didn't seem to have as much control over the flicks and twitches of those feline additions atop his head. "He's asleep," Ed supplied with a glower.

Once again, Roy directed his attention to the pages in hand. "Why don't you join him?"

"I'm not tired," the young teenager snapped.

"That's not what your papers say." Nor the dark circles residing under the golden eyes.

"Sure they don't," Ed muttered impudently.

"Look for yourself," Roy said, turning to the next page—this time he kept the stack in his hand. "That's your information right there in your hand." The man hid a smirk at his charge's expected reaction. The shuffling of papers was heard as a now-interested teenager straightened them and began browsing from back to front: the order Mustang had deposited them on the table.

The adult continued with his reading.

**It is curious, though, the exceptional quality of the chimera ears/tail. While it's not impossible for a chimera to be near-seamless, it's not very common. Although**–

"'Social interaction' _my foot_. Dumb doctors…" The childish condemnation somehow amused Roy. But before he could get back to the words on the page, Roy heard Ed exclaim with indignation mixed with unease, "'Injections'? What injections? When did I get shots?"

The colonel cringed internally; maybe he shouldn't have let the brat have those papers. All the same, he kept his demeanor indifferent. "While you were passed out."

"Why?!"

The man gave up on his reading and set the papers down. "Chill, kid. You were freaking out about it. And, seeing as you had to get them, we figured that would be the best time to do it." The orphan looked distressed. "So, since it's already in your system and has been for at least an hour by now, I suggest you sit back and trust that it doesn't kill you." Roy was losing patience with the boy's caginess. Ed opened his mouth to retort, but the black haired man continued, "And, _yes_, you _are _going to have to start having a little more trust in us. We're neither trying nor going to kill you _or _Alec. So, it would make it easier on all of our parts if you'd stop being so high strung about every little thing. What got you so upset in the first place? I've heard of being scared of needles, but the way you reacted was a bit extreme."

"I wasn't scared!"

"Yeah, right. You just hid in a corner with your brother because it was fun?"

"I wasn't scared," the teen reiterated. "I just didn't like it."

"If that's dislike, I'd hate to see _real _fear. Is there any particular reason for your aversion to getting shots?"

Ed stared down at Al for a moment. "It's none of your business." He looked back up at Mustang guardedly. "You want me to 'trust' you? I don't; don't have any reason to, either. And until I have a reason to trust you, which I doubt will ever happen, you have no right to any of our personal information besides what those doctors gave you—shouldn't even have that. We've never needed someone to take care of us and we never will. So just leave my brother and me alone."

Roy wanted to get mad at what the teenager had said. But, at the same time, he couldn't help but see where the boy was coming from: why should he put much trust in a man who had practically kidnapped him and confined him and his little brother to his house? No matter how impertinent the kid acted, it was only common sense to be wary.

Still, the blond needed to loosen up. Other than taking the boys in, Roy hadn't really done anything that wouldn't be expected of his position. In fact, the chimera-boys were getting better treatment than they would be getting from most other officers.

Frowning, Roy rose from his seat. He picked up the half-full glass of water from earlier and moved it over to sit on the coffee table before Ed. "Sorry you feel that way. I hope you can grow up soon and realize how juvenile you're acting. There, knock yourself out. I'll show you where you and Alec will be sleeping when you're done."

The alchemist walked out of the room.

* * *

><p><strong>| You know the drill. |<strong>  
><strong>| Just click on this little happiness button~ |<strong>

**| ¡Gracias, amigas! |**


	10. ᴛ ʀ ᴏ ᴜ ʙ ʟ ᴇ s ᴏ ᴍ ᴇ – d r e a m

**¡Ay, necesito mas tiempo! Y, ¡necesito escribir más!** **Pero tengo demasiadas cosas que hacer. Yo quería escribir la semana pasada, pero no podía. Yo no escribí, sino hizo trabajo. ¡No es justo! Ay, ay... **=.=

**Yo detengo ahora. No quiero molestar a vosotras. El capítulo diez se llama: ᴘᴇsᴀᴅɪʟʟᴀ — problemática. Es largo, ¿bueno? Ji ji~ ¡Os quiero! ¡Revisad por favor! **:)** Me hace ****_muy bien_****. Eso es todo. **:D

**Oh, I never have enough time to write! I was too busy doing work all week... Woe is me.**  
><strong>On the bright side for y'all, though, this chapter is longer than number nine. That's about all I have to say. Please review, and the poll is now closed. I'll prob'ly have to think up a new one...<strong>

**Finally, my ever-present thank you to **_awesomenaruto _**for betareading this! **ˆ-ˆ

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris, Roy's house.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Spring 1913. Early April.<br>|Eᴅ "Eᴅᴍᴜɴᴅ": Doesn't have any automail. Cat-chimera. A pickpocket. Age 14.  
>|Aʟ "Aʟᴇᴄ": Human-ish. Also a cat-chimera. Pickpocket. Age 13.<br>|Rᴏʏ: Colonel, the Flame Alchemist.  
>|All characters maintain their original appearances and personalities as best as I can write them.<strong>

**~ T S N**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>**  
>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-<p>

* * *

><p><strong>.: 10 :.<br>ᴛ** **ʀ** **ᴏ** **ᴜ** **ʙ** **ʟ** **ᴇ** **s** **ᴏ** **ᴍ** **ᴇ — d** **r** **e** **a** **m  
><strong>**[**_The problematic and the obliged_**]**

* * *

><p>"And you and your brother will sleep in here," Mustang concluded, having already shown the blond his own bedroom and the bathroom on the upper level of his house. He walked into the guest bedroom that the two youngsters would be occupying. In his arms, he held a sleeping Al; a load not easily obtained with the over-protective older brother watching. Though the teen had been strongly against having the man carry the copper haired boy to the spare bedroom, Mustang had convinced him after suggesting that Al would be much warmer and more comfortable in a bed, had assured him that, no, he wouldn't drop Al—"I've carried him before and he's still alive,"—and had denied Ed permission to carry his own sibling—"And what happens when your legs give out and you fall down the stairs and break both your necks?" Al was asleep and they weren't about to wake him and make him limp along on a hurt ankle.<p>

So the teenage pickpocket had begrudgingly allowed the Flame Alchemist to take Al upstairs, walking along behind him as he pointed out the other two rooms. Ed trudged over to the large bed, seemingly too tired to remember to watch Roy like a hawk. The man strode over and laid Al down on the blanket as Ed wearily crawled onto the bed.

"Careful," the boy chastised halfheartedly.

Mustang rolled his eyes at the other's persistence but didn't retort. "I assume you can take it from here?"

"Course…" Ed mumbled, closing his eyes for a couple seconds. He pried them open long enough to look at his little brother and sink down next to him.

"If there's any problem then you know where I sleep, try to run away and I'll have Hawkeye hunt you down, do _anything _to my house and I'll personally–"

_Snore…_

Mustang let out the rest of his breath as a sigh. With a backward glance at the boys whom he _refused _to admit might just look something akin to cute sleeping there, he left the bedroom. A few hours and a phone call to Hughes later, he was in bed. His last thought before drifting off to sleep was the slightly paranoid hope that the two chimera wouldn't sneak into his bedroom at night and slit his throat.

It was about two in the morning when he was awakened unexpectedly.

* * *

><p><em>He's in Mustang's living room again, watching Mr. Rockbell root through his medical bag. Mrs. Rockbell is speaking.<em>

_He sees his older brother's face pale significantly, blond ears drawing back. Gold orbs track the tip of a needle as the doctor prepares it._

"_Edward? Are you alright?" Mr. Rockbell addresses the older boy when he turns. "Ed, can you look at me? We're not doing anything to hurt you." Ed waveringly complies and stares at the doctor before him. His upper lip twitches._

_Mrs. Rockbell stops talking._

"_Do you need any help?" Mustang offers from behind. "I have a gun."_

"_That'll work nicely," the woman says. She takes a pistol from the raven haired man and aims it at Ed. "Won't he be cute?" she asks her husband._

"_Absolutely," he says with a smile._

_Before he can do anything, Al hears a loud __**BANG!**_

_His brother is gone now; it's just him. He's alone with the exception of the doctor before him. There's a malevolent smile._

"_Where's Brother?" Alphonse asks fearfully._

"_Edward is busy right now," the man replies. The room is dark. "Here, take these."_

_Then there's suddenly something—some _things_—being pressed to his lips. They're pills, those god-awful pills. He chokes and gags as they slide down his throat. He struggles, trying to break free, crying, "Brother, _Brother! _Where are you?!"_

"_There, there. You'll see. Everything'll be fine, just perfect." A sour smell and the area that he's in gets darker. "This will make everything better." Al screams; he's helpless, coughing, choking, drowning, suffocating…_

_Flashes of color appear and fade. He's burning, alone, in pain. Is the man still there? It's damp, there's something on his arm. A new noise and he's still panicking. "Al! Wake up!" Edward's voice breaks through the swirling blackness._

"_Please…no!"_

"Al!"

Alphonse's eyes flew open as he sat up, panting slightly. He grabbed onto the arms that he recognized as Edward's. "Brother?" he asked, looking around the surrounding darkness that appeared to be a bedroom.

"Yeah, Al. Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh," the younger said with a shudder. "Wh…where are we?"

"That guy, Colonel Mustang, is having us sleep in here; it's a guest bedroom or something." Al didn't reply, just sat there, letting himself calm as the adrenaline left his system. "Um, Al?" Edward spoke up after a minute, sounding a bit uncomfortable. "That wasn't me." Not understanding, Alphonse trained his ears for what his brother might have heard. But after a couple moments of hearing nothing, Al turned to give his brother a questioning glance. That was when he recalled the dampness from his dream; it was still present.

The younger brother felt his face become redder and redder at the implication.

Nothing like that had happened since he had been four or five years old. Mortified, Al wanted the bed—no, the floor would probably be better—to swallow him up. He just sat there, stewing in silent humiliation, a hundred things to say flitting through his head before being discarded.

It was at least a minute of quiet before Ed spoke, "Well…"

"Sorry," Al mumbled hurriedly.

"Heh-heh," Ed forced out reassuringly. "It's not like you meant to, right?" Al kept his eyes fixated on his tail, which was trying to curl in on itself. Upon getting no answer, the older boy offered, "Though, you might need a bath now… Both of us." Al blushed harder. He couldn't believe this was happening.

Edward shifted and slid off the bed. "Where're you going?" Al asked at the move.

"C'mon," Ed told him quietly, "I know where the bathroom is; we'll get cleaned up."

Al made a small noise of embarrassment before nodding and following after his sibling. The dark bedroom was cold and the younger boy became more aware of the dampness of his clothing when he limped along with Edward, leaning on him and hopping with every other step. They walked down the hallway, then turned left and stopped. Al could hear the _pat pat, slide, pat_of his brother's hand on the wall as he tried to locate the light switch. Then there was a bright blare of light that had both Elrics closing their eyes and grimacing.

After that, the goldenrod haired child was lead over to the side of the bathtub, where he sat down. Edward reached over to one of the two knobs for the water at the end of the bathtub. He twisted it. Nothing happened. He turned the other. Still nothing. He twisted both back and forth, back and forth, even going so far as to give one a couple of good whacks. Nothing.

Muttering several foul words under his breath, the elder spared a glance at the door to the bathroom. He turned back the unyielding faucet and gave it a few more twists and turns. With no result, Edward shot the door a witheringly resentful glare before rising and swearing in aggravation. "Be right back." He stomped out of the bathroom. Puzzled, Alphonse watched him go. Several moments later, he heard his brother speaking through the wall.

* * *

><p>Edward pushed open Mustang's door. It squeaked softly. The blond stuck his head into the bedroom before taking a few steps inside the dark room.<p>

He wasn't entirely sure how to approach this.

He cleared his throat. "Um…" Then he knocked his fist against the wall. Again, harder. The man stirred in his bed and Edward ventured farther into the dark room. "Hey." He made no effort to keep his voice down as he repeated, "Hey, wake up." The guy rolled over away from Ed. "Hey, Mr. Mustang, or whatever, _hey, _wake up!"

The teen nudged the adult impatiently. A second later, Mustang's eyes snapped open and he grabbed the blond's wrist, holding it away from himself. He stared at Edward for a few softly panted breaths before his eyes showed recognition and he released his captive.

With a weary sigh, the man closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hand, sliding it down until it pushed his hair up a bit. "What?" he asked with a sleep-ridden voice.

Getting his bearings back around him, Ed held his wrist protectively to his chest before scowling. "How do you work the water in the bathroom?"

One of Mustang's eyes opened to peer at the boy. "The sink?"

"The bath."

"…Why?"

"'Cause I wanna run some water."

"Again, why?" The guy rubbed at his face.

The golden-eyed boy's tail twitched. "Al and I were gonna take a bath."

"Why?"

"Is that all you can say?"

"Until you give me something better, yes."

Ed huffed. "Then how 'bout you tell me how to turn on the water?"

"There's a trick to it. Turn the little…"—_yawn_—"…thingy on the spout."

"'Thingy on the spout'?"

"For God's sake," the man complained and forced himself out of his bed. "I'll show you if it'll give me peace."

"You don't have to do that!" Ed piped up a little too quickly.

Mustang shot the hybrid a suspicious look. "And why do you need to be bathed tonight?"

Edward shoved his hands into his pockets with a downward glance and angrily led the way to the lit bathroom, muttering, "Stop asking dumb questions." Once there, the teen pointed at the bathtub. "Now, fix it."

Ed turned to look at Roy, who was staring at Alphonse with a beleaguered expression on his face. The wet stain on the younger's pants was all-too visible. "You've got to be joking." Al hung his head. "I'm supposed to be watching over a couple o' criminals, not babysitting a bed-wetter."

"Hey! It's not his fault!" Ed reprimanded defensively, though, he didn't know _who else _he could possibly blame it on.

"I know, I know…" the man sighed wearily.

"Huh?"

"I said I know. There was something in his papers about it being a side-effect to stress or something like that." Ed was a little taken aback. Mustang smirked sardonically at Edward. "What? I thought you already knew everything about yourselves that you'd ever want or need to know."

The teenager pouted. "Just turn on the water." Roy obliged and reached over, twisting a nozzle on the bathtub's spout. Water came gushing out.

The only noise echoing in the bathroom was of hollow splashes drumming into the inside the tub…then water smacking against more liquid…water splashing mutedly…a _squeak _and _pl-plip-plip-plip-plip-plip plip-plip-plip plip plip-plip plip-plip plip plip…plip…plip._

"There," Mustang finalized, standing up from the side of the tub. "Get undressed and hop in." The boys didn't move. "Go on."

"Not with you here," Edward resisted.

"Well, either you strip down and get in the tub, or you do so and just stand there, naked. Either way, I have to get your clothes so they can be washed and don't stink up my house."

Ed glanced over to a silent Al and shifted his foot. "Turn around, first."

"Kid, there's nothing you and your brother have that I don't– Er, that is… But I already know about the ears and tails an' stuff, so, unless there's something _else _you're hiding under–"

"There's nothing else!" asserted the teenager adamantly.

"Then hurry it up."

The older Elric begrudgingly turned his back and stripped down to his boxers. Refusing to go any further than that, he proceeded to help his younger brother do the same. Al just sat there demurely, seeming to have chosen that pretending this wasn't happening was his best bet.

Edward handed Mustang the sodden clothes. "There."

"Come on, all the way," the colonel ordered intransigently. Edward flushed but complied. He shielded his little brother as he removed the last bit of Alphonse's clothing before standing and sliding of his boxers. His back was to Roy as he proffered the articles clothing. Ed could hear Mustang huff behind him as he took the things and set them down on the bathroom floor. Socked-feet took a step and a half toward him and then there was a hand stuck out in front of his own. "You're not bathing with that on." Ed looked down at the indicated hand. Lifting it up, he allowed the colonel to remove the bandage that was wrapped around his right hand. Cold fingers held it up for a few seconds after the bandage was off. Then Ed pulled it away to see for himself. It was scabbing over nicely but was still fairly swollen. "You probably ought to keep that dry for the time being."

Edward shrugged off the advice. "Alright, you can go now. I can do Al's on my own."

The pile of clothes was picked up off the floor as Mustang retreated. "Don't drown."

With that, the bathroom door was closed.

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><p><strong>| Any and all feedback is loved~ |<br>| Review! |**

**Now.**


	11. s ʟ ᴏ ᴡ ʟ ʏ – a d j u s t i n g

**Hola, este sitio era estúpido en el domingo pasado. No lo me gustaba. **D:** Sin embargo, está funcionando bien ahora.**

**The site was being retarded on Sunday when I was trying to upload...wouldn't let me edit without telling me to re-login about 20 times. My eyes died from having to read those mixed-up number/letter codes so many times. I was ****_not_**** happy. But it's working fine now, and that's all that counts, right? At least I was able to upload it in the first place.**

**Thanks, **_awesomenaruto_**, for betareading this; you're awesome.** :)

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris, Roy's house.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Spring 1913. Early April. Night.<br>|Eᴅ "Eᴅᴍᴜɴᴅ" Eʟʀɪᴄ: Doesn't have automail. Cat-chimera and also a pickpocket, age 14.  
>|Aʟ "Aʟᴇᴄ" Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human-ish. Also a cat-chimera and a pickpocket, age 13.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel, Flame Alchemist.  
>|All characters maintain their original appearances and personalities as best I can write them.<strong>

**Ahora, os presento: ᴀ****ᴅ****ᴀ****ᴘ****ᴛ****ᴀ****ɴ — ****paulatinament************e****.**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 11 :.<br>s** **ʟ** **ᴏ** **ᴡ** **ʟ** **ʏ — a** **d** **j** **u** **s** **t** **i** **n** **g  
>[<strong>_The conflicted and their wearied help_**]**

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><p><em>Splish, splosh…drip-splash.<em>

Alphonse closed his eyes as he felt the washcloth slide over his shoulder, warm water streaming down his bare back. It felt good.

_Slosh._

He could hear Edward move behind him, causing the water to softly knock against the side of the tub. The cloth was back again, stroking down his back. Water dribbled.

"Yo'kay?" Ed spoke, voice quietly echoing.

"Huh?" asked Al, bowing his head and relaxing a little more.

"You've been really quiet since we came here. Are you alright? There's not anything wrong, is there? I mean other than…" The blond's strained voice threatened to break every now and then, but he hid it well.

"I'm fine. I just… I'm not entirely sure what to say to any of this. I know I shouldn't tell them anything important about us or anything like that…and so I decided I'd better just let you handle it for now."

He heard a small puff of pride from his older brother at that.

"C'mon, turn around," Ed told him, having finished with washing Al's back. More water sloshed as Al did his best to rotate around without bumping his sore ankle. Edward immediately brought his attention to the injury, inspecting it concernedly. He tentatively laid his fingers over the swollen area, ever cautious to any signs of discomfort from Al. The older boy gently ran the washcloth over his brother's ankle but abruptly ceased when Al flinched. "Sorry."

"What about you, Brother?" Al asked instead of responding to Edward's apology. "Are _you _alright?"

"O'course I am. I'm always alright." Ed smirked assuredly. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Just making sure…"

"Don't worry 'bout me, Al; I can take care of myself. You, too."

"Yeah," Al agreed. He sighed as Edward continued his ministrations. He never made a move to clean his own body; if his brother was willing to do all the work, Alphonse wasn't going to stop him. Besides, the older Elric generally preferred to care for his sibling versus Alphonse taking care of himself. Al guessed that it made Ed feel needed or important. His eyes drifted shut again as the warm cloth slid over his skin, cleaning off all the dirt and relaxing his muscles. There was a deep, somnolent contentedness reverberating through his chest.

Edward halted. "Al? Did you just…?"

Alphonse roused himself from his drifting state and looked at his sibling. "Hmm?"

"Oh, um…nothing." But the blond had a curious expression on his face as he peered at the darker haired boy. With a trickle of water, he raised the washcloth to Alphonse's neck, rubbing around the back of it. Al's mind drifted once again. Abruptly, the pleasant sensation ceased and Ed exclaimed, "You did!"

"I did what?" Al wanted to know.

Ed was looking at him with incredulity as he affirmed, "You just _purred_, Al."

Al didn't know whether to be ashamed or proud, alarmed or _what _at the declaration. "Is that a bad thing?"

"Well, no, at least…I don't think so. But…I didn't even know that you _could_. How long have you been able to…uh, purr?"

"I–I don't know," Al acquitted. "I've probably always been able to do it."

"Then how come I haven't ever heard you do it before?"

"Well, I've never really had a reason to– Uh, well, I _have _been happy, but not ever like that before. It's just, it felt really nice and all and we never got to take warm baths like this out on the streets…" Alphonse wished he hadn't been able to see the flash of hurt in his brother's eyes before the emotion was suppressed. Despite his attempt to amend his statement, it had still worked as an injury to Edward's pride. Al picked up the discarded washcloth floating in the water. It dripped as he rubbed it over the flesh his brother had not yet cleaned.

"So…what, you're happy here?"

"I dunno… Not really. But it's not horrible or anything. It's almost sort of nice… Mr. Mustang seems mean and rough but, now that I think about it, from the little I've seen, I don't think he's out to hurt us. He's just a mostly normal guy."

"You're too naïve for your own good, Al."

"I am _not naïve_! You're just paranoid!"

"'_Paranoid_'? How am I _paranoid_?"

"You never trust anybody. You're–"

"Hey, what're you doing?" Edward asked when Al started trying to wash his brother.

"The same thing you were doing for me." Alphonse reached out the dripping cloth again.

Ed shied away slightly, protesting, "I can do it myself, Al."

"Well, so can I, so hold still. Besides, you're supposed to keep one of your hands dry so there's only so much washing you can do." Edward relented, not putting up as much fuss as Alphonse had anticipated, and resigned himself to letting the younger Elric do as he pleased. "Like I said," Al resumed, "no one has seemed intent on harming us so far. I don't think it's fair to judge people so early on."

"Life's not fair," Ed said disdainfully. He sighed. "Besides, how would you know what everyone's like? You were asleep half the time."

"I was tired!" defended Alphonse. "You can hardly blame me. A lot happened and I'm surprised you stayed awake for so long."

"I don't wanna let my guard down. Can't risk it. I'm gonna take care of you, Al, and I'm not going to let these people get in my way."

_Drip, drip. Splish._

"Alright…"

_Slosh._

"I don't have any reason to put faith in these people, the Mustang guy definitely can't be trusted; he's almost cunning. The Hughes guy is too pushy and the other woman is dangerous, what with that gun. Even those doctors seemed fake; too nice."

"Brother?" Al questioned, rubbing the washcloth down Ed's arm. "Why can't we just trust people sometimes, instead of always being suspicious of everyone and everything?"

"We don't need them, Al. Why go through all the trouble of forming a relationship that probably won't last and could end up causing us trouble? We have each other, right?" Ed looked at Alphonse and the younger nodded. "Then that's all we need."

Al didn't nod this time. While he didn't like to admit it, his brother annoyed him sometimes. Just because Ed wasn't very good at accepting others into their lives, Al had to spend his in loneliness. They had each other…and nobody else.

Sensing Al's disquiet, Ed abandoned the topic. Instead, the golden-blond started looking around, upsetting the stillness of the tub's water in his search.

"What is it?" Al queried.

If we're gonna get cleaned up, we're gonna do it right. This guy's gotta have some soap or shampoo or something 'round here…"

Alphonse glanced around before pointing to a ledge in the wall above Edward's head. "There, I see some."

Ed compliantly rose, water splashing loudly as it cascaded off his body. The teen stood there for a moment, indecisive, while the fall of water ebbed off to a trickle. Then, turning back with a bottle in hand, Ed settled himself back into the water.

Alphonse raised his eyebrow, then wrinkled his nose at what the elder held. "That's girls' shampoo– Why does Mr. Mustang have girls' shampoo…?"

"Don't ask questions." The blond poured a small amount of it onto his fingers. But when he stretched out his hand to apply it to Al's hair, the younger scooted back.

"But I don't wanna smell like a girl!"

"I have to smell like it, too! And _I _have a better nose, so don't complain."

"Why would he own it in the first place?!"

"I told you I'm not going into that right now!"

"Doesn't he have anything else?" Al whined. "Surely Mr. Mustang doesn't use girlie shampoo!"

"We're not using the other stuff. I'd rather we smell like flowers than like that jerk!"

"But, _Ed_…!" At that moment, the older plopped his palm on top of Al's head. Alphonse made a disgusted face, his ears folding back in irritation. "Eww…"

Ed snickered.

* * *

><p>The floor was slippery, splashed with water and a few suds. Edward adjusted the towel around his thin waist and surveyed the puddles he'd tracked over the tiled floor when he had looked for something with which to dry off. He bit his lip and then grabbed another towel from the cabinet, draping it over the mess. Using his foot, he proceeded to push the towel around in an attempt to soak up the moisture.<p>

It didn't work as well as expected.

Al watched from his seated position on the edge of the bathtub. "It's not doing very much," he observed.

"I know, I know," Ed muttered. He moved forward and tried again, pressing harder with his foot, but the towel mostly bunched up around his ankle. At the failure, the blond contemptuously kicked the large drying cloth aside. He mumbled his angry frustration at the inanimate object as if it would repent. Then something donned on him and he didn't know quite what to do. He looked to Al. Perplexed, he flipped through possible courses of action, finding none suitable.

Al seemed to reach the same conclusion and asked, "Brother…what about our clothes?"

Edward flicked his dripping tail back and forth. He went over to the bathroom door, turned the knob, then opened it and peered outside, shivering with the chill of the house.

He became aware of a soft noise. Tilting his ears forward, the boy listened harder. There it was again: slow, steady, and soft. It was the sound of breathing.

Edward's heart seized up for a moment in panic before he caught sight of the figure leaned against a wall. Opening the door a bit farther to allow more light into the hall revealed that, true to suspicion, it was Colonel Mustang. He was propped against the wall, arms folded over his chest, head lolling to the side…sleeping. The blond had to take a moment to wonder how the man stayed upright. And why was he there? "Prob'ly to guard the door and make sure we don't escape," the teen guessed to himself, scornfully. "Hey," he spoke up, then cleared his throat. "Hey, ugly. _Hello_?" The chimera-hybrid was _not _about to leave the warm confines of the bathroom to venture out and risk repeating that night's earlier events.

Luckily, though, the ebony haired man cracked one eye open. "Yeah?" he managed. "You two fin'shed yet?"

"What about clothes?" Ed came back with, rather than answering the previous question.

"What about 'em?" Mustang yawned widely.

"We can't sleep in towels," the boy snapped.

"Right…" the sleepy man conceded. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and yawned again. "I'll go an' get somethin'…" He stiffly pushed away from the wall and shuffled down the hallway. Ed watched him go, then ducked back into the bathroom. He gave Al a thumbs-up.

A couple minutes later brought footsteps, a turn of the doorknob, and Mustang stepping into the warm room. In his arms were some clothes: clothes that were definitely _not _the boys'.

"What're those?" Edward asked, pointing to the clothing.

"Clothes."

"What about _our _clothes?"

"Beggars can't be choosers, kid. Besides, you're not getting back into _those _things until they're washed." Edward glowered. "Listen, either wear these or go without. On second thought, no, put these on. I'm not about to have two naked chimera running around my house." With that, the man deposited the clothing into Ed's arms. But before Mustang stepped back, he sniffed, giving the boys a quizzical expression. "Were you using…?"

"We'd rather smell like flowers than like you," the teenager quipped.

Mustang smirked. "I'll have you know that women are crazy for that aroma."

Al's eyebrows rose. Edward flashed him a patronizing look. "I'd go crazy, too, if I had to breathe that stuff; you reek." He sniffed the shirts in his hands. "Ugh, even your clothes stink!"

Mustang rolled his eyes. "I just washed those."

"Then you must really smell if you can't even get the stench out by washing."

"Yeah, real mature," the man said with another eye roll. "Get dressed. I'll be out in the hall."

Edward stuck out his tongue at the man's retreating back. When the Flame Alchemist was gone, he turned back to Alphonse, handing over one of the two shirts he'd been given. "Here, put that on. I know it's not much but it's all that pompous jerk'll give us.

Ed pulled his own oversized shirt over his head, tugging it across his still-damp skin. When he faced his little brother once more, Al was watching him, puzzled, shirt still held in his hands. "Brother, what do you mean? These don't smell bad."

* * *

><p>Colonel Mustang remained out in the darkened hallway, waiting, trying not to doze off again. He could hear the muted voices of the boys conversing occasionally. After about a minute or two, the door opened with a slight squeak—he needed to remember to oil it—and out stepped the two chimera. The younger boy was wearing one of Roy's t-shirts while the older had one of Roy's old dress shirts. Knowing that he didn't have anything small enough to fit the boys, Mustang had gone in the opposite direction and had picked out the two largest shirts he could find. Accordingly, the shirts hung off the brothers, extending down a little below mid-thigh.<p>

Ed stood in the doorway, framed in the bathroom light, and supporting his younger brother with one arm. Water droplets fell from their hair, making little darker splotches form on the pale fabric of the previously-dry clothing. Roy noticed that both the younger's ankle and the elder's hand had been re-bandaged and he had to assume that the boys had located his medicine cabinet. "Well?" he asked after a pause.

"Well what?" Roy asked.

"Well…? Don't you have anything else?" Ed gestured at the clothing.

"Did you need something else?" Roy knew perfectly well what the child was hinting at. Yet, in spite of how tired he was—or perhaps _because of _his weariness—Mustang didn't mind sparing a few moments to toy with the hotheaded boy. However, the blond seemed incapable to swallow his pride enough to actually ask the alchemist for anything. "Then go back to sleep. You need me to carry him?" Roy pointed at the younger hybrid.

Al barely made a sound of indecision before Ed jumped in with an aggressive, "No!"

"Geez, you'd think I'd asked if I could sell him on the black market," Mustang muttered disapprovingly. He stood there. The boys looked at him. He looked back at them. Then, seeming to realize that Roy wasn't going to say anything more, Ed turned and started hobbling down the hall with his brother. Mustang watched them slowly progress toward the guest bedroom. Once they'd gotten most of the way, he leaned over, switched off the bathroom light, then went downstairs. Upon his return, he saw that Ed was only just helping Al into the bed. Mustang went over and set a glass of water on the bedside table. "You're supposed to drink that."

"How am I supposed to know you didn't poison it?"

Roy rolled his eyes; this was getting ridiculous. "You don't, okay? So either drink it or don't. I honestly don't care. I'm just supposed to keep you alive. Though, you passing out from dehydration would probably make that job go a lot easier for me. So, are you going to drink it or not?" Ed shook his head determinedly. "Then I'm goin' to bed."

Mustang strode out of the room, pulling the door to behind him. However, tired as he was, something made Roy stop outside the doorway.

Why was he doing this? Why did he, of all the people in the world, have to take charge of these two chimera-freaks? Why? He was an alchemist, not a sitter. He was experienced in dealing with fire, not cat-hybrids. And he fought in a war…not with homeless teenagers.

A soft voice came from within the bedroom and Roy strained his ears to catch what was being said.

"Ed, aren't you going to drink the water?"

"No."

"But why not?"

"You know why not."

"Brother… Please drink it."

"Why?"

"You need it."

"I'm not thirsty."

"Yes you are." Silence. "Brother, I know you want to take care of me, but you have to take care of yourself, first. I know you don't trust anyone and I understand why…but I don't want you to get sick because of that. Please." Again, nothing…save for the faint scrape and _clink _of a glass being lifted from a wooden side table.

* * *

><p><strong>| Por favor, ¡me demos comentarios! |<strong>  
><strong>| Gracias. |<strong>


	12. ғ ɪ ʀ s ᴛ – d a y

**Ay...tengo sueño. No hablo mucho, ¿bien? Tengo trabajar mucho por escuela. ¡No es tiempo suficiente en los días! **:(

**Eh, I thought I'd warn you early: one of weeks I'm gonna have to take a week off. Sí, cierto. I mean, it's not _that_ big of a deal, but I still feel kinda guilty. But, if I want this story to be as good as I want it to be, I'd need more time to plan, edit, revise, and fix little things up so I don't regret something. It's not this week, but it's some week soon. Lo siento.**

**_Until then_, enjoy what I have! I call it P R I M E R – d í a .** :D  
><strong>Please review! <strong>

**Thanks to **_awesomenaruto_**, my beta! **^–^

**|Setting: Amestris, Roy's house.  
>|Time: Spring 1913. April 5th, morning.<br>**|Ed "Edmund": No automail. Cat-chimera and a pickpocket, age 14. **  
><strong>|Al "Alec": A cat-chimera and pickpocket, age 13. <strong>  
><strong>|Roy Mustang: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.<strong>  
><strong>|All the characters maintain their original appearancespersonalities as best I can write them.****

****Oh! Wait– I can't talk about that yet... ****¬.¬

****~ T S N****

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>-TheSleepingNeko-

* * *

><p><strong><strong>.: 12 :.<br>**F I R S T – d a y  
>[<strong>****_The brothers and Mr. Mustang_******]**  
><strong>**

* * *

><p>Coal-black eyes snapped open the moment that Roy realized he was awake. Taking in his usual surroundings, he felt puzzled for a couple of seconds. When he did remember the cause for his subconscious agitation, he found himself hurriedly making his way down the hall to the spare bedroom. He grabbed onto the doorframe, pushing the door open and stuck his head in.<p>

There, on the bed, sat the younger of the two boys. He was sitting upright and seemed to be lost in thought, but his attention was quickly drawn to the man who had just appeared.

"Where's the other one?" Roy demanded when he didn't immediately spot the elder hybrid.

Al directed his gaze down to the bed. "Asleep."

Going over to the bed, Mustang noticed the larger lump amid the mussed blankets. Further inspection revealed it to be the blond teenager, sound asleep, sprawled out on his back. "That's a relief," the man said to himself in reference to the fact that he could spend at least a bit of his morning without the annoyance of the moody teenager. Of course, there was still the younger one to deal with, but Al seemed much more mellow and temperate. Speaking of whom, Roy looked back to the honey-brown haired hybrid. "How long have you been awake?"

Al shrugged. "For about an hour or two."

Roy's eyes went to the clock on the wall and he internally cringed at realizing he'd slept in 'til after nine o'clock. "And you've just been sitting here." He was doubtful that the statement rang true, but the child nodded an affirmative. The alchemist raised an eyebrow but didn't question further. The boy shifted and gripped the oversized shirt he'd been sleeping in. He cast an uncertain glance up at Mustang. "What?"

"Uh," Al said, looking from his brother to the colonel.

"What?" the man questioned a bit more impatiently.

The chimera's gaze flicked calculatingly between Ed and Mustang before settling on the alchemist. "Do we get any food?"

Roy blinked. He hadn't thought of that. "Uh, sure, I guess. What types of things do you normally eat?"

"We usually eat whatever we can get our hands on." Roy wrinkled his nose. "No, no, not like that!" Al quickly amended. "Anything would be fine. We don't eat weird things, if that's what you're thinking. Just normal human food."

_Human, huh_, Roy mused internally. "Alright, whatever." He turned to leave.

"U–uh, thank you…" came an unexpected call.

Roy looked back at the two newcomers, the younger, more accepting one staring after him with the older, distrustful one fast asleep. "Right…" For brothers, they sure could be different.

* * *

><p>Al could smell the eggs cooking. His stomach burned with hunger. He managed to stay in one spot for about ten minutes before he couldn't bear it any longer. It smelled so <em>good<em>.

With a guilty sidelong glance at his brother, the younger slid off the bed and cautiously lowered himself to the ground. Alphonse lightly set his bandaged foot down and applied some pressure. He winced when the pain made itself known once more. Although he couldn't walk on it, he could still probably get around if he had a little support. Again, he looked at his brother, feeling guilty. However, he was famished and there was food downstairs. The boy hadn't eaten since the evening of two days ago, with the exception of the glasses of water the Rockbells had given him. And, contrary to how his older brother thought, Alphonse didn't believe that this Mustang guy was trying to harm them; he didn't have any incentives. Yes, Al knew that he was commonly too trusting with other people, but that small fact seemed insignificant when compared to his current hunger. His stomach hurt from lack of food. Though that wasn't an uncommon experience for the boys to feel, it was still a miserable sensation.

Without another noise, Al limped over to the doorway and supported himself against the beige wall and proceeded to make his way down the hallway. The house was unfamiliar to him. He passed two doors—one the bathroom, the other possibly Mustang's own room—before he arrived at the top of the stairs. Here came the hard part.

Grabbing hold of the banister rail, the child leaned most of his weight on it and hopped one step down. Then another…and another. By the time he had reached the bottom of all sixteen steps, he was almost out of breath. To his right was the living room but before him was the kitchen, out of which the intoxicating aroma was originating.

He limped forward.

Alphonse spotted Mustang before the man noticed him. The adult was standing at the counter, trying to scrape some semi-burnt eggs out of a frying pan and onto a plate. However, when he spotted the youngster, Mustang jolted in surprise, letting the pan slip from his hand, but managing to jump back before it clattered noisily to the floor.

"What are you doing down here?" the alchemist snapped before retrieving his pan.

"You didn't say we had to stay upstairs," Al defended.

"That doesn't mean you can go wandering around my house."

"I wasn't wandering, I just came down here!"

Mustang sighed exasperatedly, depositing the skillet in the sink. "Fine, here. Don't complain." With that, the raven haired man set the plate of steaming eggs on the kitchen table.

Al's eyes went wide and his mouth started to water. "Those're for me…?"

"Yeah," Mustang said with a shrug. He went over and started scrubbing out the skillet. Alphonse reverently went over to the plate, almost unwilling to believe it was real. Then he hastily wiped away the strand of that drool that tried to escape down his chin. In that moment, Colonel Mustang was one of his favorite people on the planet.

The child swiftly reached out and grasped the plate of food, grabbing a handful of eggs and promptly dropping it at the sudden burning sensation. "Ah!" he exclaimed softly before trying again, picking the eggs apart with his fingers and frantically blowing on them.

A _thump _came from upstairs. It smelled _so good…_

"Al!" The call was frantic, urgent. "_Al!_" Ed's voice was accompanied by the sound of running feet, which quickly and clumsily hurried down the stairs. Alphonse turned in time to see his brother stumble into the kitchen, eyes wide. "Al! What're you doing?" came the demand when Ed spotted Al. Next, his eyes fell on Roy Mustang and his body tensed up. "You–!"

Al's own eyes widened with concern when he saw the older boy grimace, his face suddenly taking on a distant expression. Edward staggered sideways, placed a hand on the wall, and then slid down unsteadily to his knees. "Ed!"

Mustang got there first. However, Al noted, the man's tone was filled more with exasperation than worry as he asked what was wrong.

"Nnnothin', Al… Just…stood up too fast." The blond's eyes were wandering up somewhere near the ceiling. "'M fine, just gimmie a sec…"

Alphonse managed to get over to the two and crouched down awkwardly. "Brother, are you okay?"

Edward winced and took a steadying breath, then shook his head a little before blinking his eyes a few times and saying, "Yeah, fine. Al, what were you doing?"

"Nothing. But he had food and–"

"So you were just going to eat it?"

"He was giving me breakfast."

"_Al_, you can't trust this guy."

Mustang broke in, justifying himself with, "Hey, I was just giving him something to eat."

"Don't!" Ed glared at the man. "We don't need your food!"

"Yes, you do. Otherwise you'll starve."

"What's your point?"

"Brother," Alphonse tried to calm him, but the two older males were wrapped up in their argument.

Moving to higher ground, the colonel straightened and returned to his place by the sink and his task of cleaning his skillet. "Because then you'd die."

Edward seemed to take the move as a challenge and forced himself to his feet. "What do you care?" His legs were trembling beneath him and his face was pale. Al grabbed onto his elbow to lend support but the elder slid his arm out of the hold, instead opting to steady himself against the wall.

"I don't. I was just stuck in charge of _taking care _of you two, not _caring about _you. The only reason I want to keep you relatively healthy is so that maybe that'll get you off my hands sooner and because that's what I'm supposed to be doing. Part of that job means feeding you."

"No!" Ed's voice was cracking again.

"You have to have food to survive. Why else do you think you're practically falling over yourself? You need to eat."

"We don't need to eat food if it's been poisoned!"

Mustang slammed the pan into the sink, making Al jump at the loud noise. Obsidian eyes flicked to Edward. "_Enough _with the poison, alright? The food is _not _poisoned, I _didn't _put anything into it, and I would not have any reason to! I'm trying to keep you _alive_. If I'd wanted you dead, I could have done something already!"

"That's what you'd want us to think!" With every shouted word, Ed's voice became rougher. He took a few steps forward, standing as tall as he could. His tail was puffed up.

At last, Al had had enough. "Stop!" It came out as a mixture of an order and a plea, but it got the other two to cease abruptly, Mustang's mouth still open to form a retort. Eyes were directed at the youngest as he gripped the shirt he was wearing in frustration. "You're not helping anything." The alchemist closed his mouth but Edward still looked fired up for an argument. Al was aware of this. Feeling a little guilty, though knowing it was for the best, he played the pity card. "You're just making a lot of noise and it's giving me a headache."

Like magic, the elder Elric instantly backed down. "Sorry, Al."

"That's alright. I'm sorry for worrying you."

Alphonse was surprised at how well that had gone over, until his brother responded, "It's okay. But you can't eat any of his food." Al's heart sank. His stomach clenched with yearning. He was sure that his face painted a perfect portrait of his dismay because Ed quietly consoled, "We can't trust him. You know that, right?"

Al tried to nod…but he couldn't. "Br–Brother…I'm hungry…" It was true, so very true. And, as much as he didn't want to sound like he was whining or complaining—Edward knew best, after all—Al also wanted to eat. He wanted food. He wanted to chew it up, taste it, swallow it. He wanted to fill the void in his stomach that hadn't been filled in far too long. He wanted the familiar pain of hunger go away. He needed food.

And it was sitting right there; he could smell it, turn his head and see it. His fingers still stung a little from trying to pick the hot eggs up too soon.

He wanted to eat so badly!

Al couldn't stop the heat forming around his eyes, nor the tightening of his throat. But he squeezed his jaw tight before a tremor could make itself known. He had been so close, had almost gotten to taste it…but then Ed said no. Edward had forbidden it.

Hurriedly, the blond amended, "Hey, Al. It's alright, I'll find you something. I promise."

Alphonse almost wished he could argue back, insist that he be able to eat what had been offered to him. However, he wouldn't; he would listen to his older brother…because Ed always knew best. Edward always had good reasons for what he did, always took good care of Al, protected him, was always there for him, and always stood strong. Edward was strong—prideful, but strong, nonetheless. So Al would be, too. He would pretend he could ignore the sucking, empty feel of his stomach. And he would trust his brother.

He looked into Edward's golden eyes—they were soft and searching, asking for consent—and nodded. After all, Al wasn't going through any discomfort that Ed himself wasn't enduring.

"Okay," the younger accepted.

Ed smiled encouragingly, reassuringly. "You'll see, I'll take care of it."

Those five words set Al's heart to rest. Because, as many times as he had heard his older brother utter that phrase through the years, it always rang true.

* * *

><p>That was it. He gave up, Mustang told himself. But it wasn't true. It wasn't that simple; he couldn't just give up and hand his charges over to someone else, no matter how much he wanted to.<p>

He was stuck with them. And they were stuck with him. Joy.

He watched the boys converse for a bit—they seemed to have kicked him out of the conversation completely—before he finished cleaning out the abandoned skillet. Mustang noticed he now had a nice dent in the inside of his sink from where he'd hit it with the pan. Lovely.

He was in a bad mood when he exited the kitchen. Ed's and Al's voices had grown softer and Roy hadn't been too interested in eavesdropping in their slightly emotional and likely boring conversation. Besides, as weak as the older brother appeared, he obviously didn't plan on accepting help anytime soon.

So Roy wouldn't offer it.

He'd made that mistake once and gotten his hand bitten for it—figuratively, of course, but he wouldn't put it past them to make that literal. They were animals, after all.

Yet, in spite of that, Mustang couldn't deny the human emotions the children seemed to display: the uncertainty and distrust, determination, desire, insurmountable pride from the elder, childishness of the younger…the devotion between them.

Great, this train of thought was making the colonel out to be the bad guy. And he wasn't. He was just a victim in this. No. Not a victim; that made him seem weak. Roy was strong. _He _had fought in a war. The boys were the weak ones.

…They were weak? Since his pride refuted the possibility of the alchemist being the lesser in regard to strength, that position must fall to his two charges. That paradox of unwanted viewpoints either pushed the role of inferiority, or the role of a protector onto his shoulders.

This was too confusing. He needed to give his mind some time to construct better arguments in this matter, because he knew he was in the right. But anything he pondered at the moment kept shoving the hybrids into the light of innocence. And they were _not _innocent. Not with how they had treated him. He had given them a bed, gotten up to help them in the middle of the night, offered them food…and they'd shown no appreciation. He deserved better than that. To sound childish, it wasn't _fair_.

But again, Mustang felt like he was victimizing himself!

Not about to go down that road again, Roy went up to his room and retrieved the papers from the Rockbells and quickly returned to the living room. He kept an ear out for activity in the kitchen. The pair of pickpockets obviously wouldn't partake of the meal he'd offered them, but he'd leave them in there with it available. Maybe they'd eat it without him around—maybe not. Nevertheless they were hungry, so there was a possibility that they'd try to sneak some other food from his cupboards. That wasn't necessarily a good thing, but they needed to eat, so, if it happened, he'd turn a blind eye. If nothing else, being alone might settle them down a bit.

Wait, now Roy sounded like he was concerned with it.

However, half an hour of reading the doctors' papers only brought more frustration, as the words on the pages seemed to be a tribute to pitying the hybrids. Roy kept having to read about this injury, that health concern, how he should care for them. It had things like:

**Being what they are, you can expect the patients to feel intimidated by this change of circumstances. Again, patience would be the best course of action. To be**–

"'Intimidated'," Roy scoffed. The thieves didn't need and wouldn't stand for that type of pity. Why did anyone need to be pitied in the first place? Nobody was a victim here.

Well, because that would simply put the alchemist on the same level as the boys, and they were _not _equals.

Roy looked up. When had it gotten so quiet?

Trepidation flowing through his veins, the man rose from his seat on the couch and ventured into the kitchen. And there, on the floor, were the boys, asleep. Slumped against the wall, their heads were leaned against each other's shoulders. On their faces were looks that were the closest thing to _peaceful _that Roy had ever beheld coming from them.

The nice part was that they weren't causing any more trouble. The not nice part was that they'd crashed in his kitchen floor and now Mustang needed to find a way to remove them…_without _waking them. Wonderful.

The colonel reached for the younger of the two, pulling him away. In retrospect, Roy would realize that this was a bad idea. As the man slid the copper haired youth from his position with the blond, Ed woke up. Panicked eyes flashing after the two seconds it took him to grasp the situation, the older teen promptly pitched forward and grabbed his brother from Mustang.

"Stop it! What are you doin–?" And with that, Ed's voice broke. Mustang recoiled from the reaction and the younger sibling jolted awake, but the blond didn't make another sound.

"Br–Brother?"

Still pushing a disconcerted Al behind his arm protectively, Ed glared at Mustang, ears laid back. However, the glare struggled to stay in place as bewilderment flitted over the teen's face, softening the expression. He grabbed at his throat and opened his mouth as if to speak. The only sound that came out was a strained rasp. The blond coughed, covering his mouth. The other boy was instantly there, trying to talk to his brother, yet Ed answered none of the worried questions flying from the younger's lips. He just tried to speak, failed, and coughed harder.

Mustang didn't know whether to be concerned or not…or _how _to be concerned if he opted for that choice. What was he supposed to do, pat the kid on the back? Al had that covered. Would the teenager lash out again if Mustang tried to provide any assistance? Would Riza shoot him if the boy died?

_Knock-knock-knock._

Roy halted his thoughts when he heard that. Over the sound of the chimera's coughing, it came again.

_Knock-knock._

Luckily, the coughs subsided to rough, yet unstrained, breathing and Mustang spared the kids a quick glance before rising. Well, the boy wasn't dying; at least, not at the moment. That was a plus. Then again…

The pounding from his front door came once more and the black haired man grimaced. Perfect, _just perfect_.

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><p><strong>| Review! |<strong>


	13. ᴜ ɴ ᴇ x ᴘ ᴇ ᴄ ᴛ ᴇ ᴅ – v i s i t o r

****Mis amigas, este capíto es alegre. ¡Oh! Ahora, mis actualizaciones serán los miércoles. Porque no tengo tiempo en los domingos.****

****Light-hearted chappy here. Oh, and I'm gonna have to start updating chapters on Wednesdays, due to there not being enough time on Sundays. Sorry. So, you'll get capítulo catorce on March 28th.  
>In other-ness, the song I kept listenign to while writing this was "Story Of Us" by Taylor Swift. Don't ask me why. And, I'm gonna laugh when people get the wrong first-impression on my "flower". lol <strong>**xD  
><strong>Please review! <strong>

****Thank you, my beta, ****_awesomenaruto****!****_

******|Setting: Amestris. Roy's house.  
>|Time: Spring 1913. 5th of April.<br>**|Ed-_mund_ Elric: Doesn't have automail. Cat-chimera and also a pickpocket. Age 14. **  
><strong>|Al-<em>ec<em> Elric: Human-ish. Also a cat-chimera and pickpocket. Age 13. **  
><strong>|Roy Mustang: Colonel, the Flame Alchemist.<strong>  
><strong>|All of the characters maintain their original appearances and personalities as best I can write them.<strong>**  
><strong>**

**~ T S N **

* * *

><p><strong><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>**-TheSleepingNeko-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 13 :.<strong>  
><strong>U N E X P E C T E D – v i s i t o r<strong>  
><strong>[<strong>_Edmund, Alec, and the bachelor_**]**

* * *

><p>It hurt.<p>

Thought, that was an understatement. Actually, it burned. The harsh coughs were forced out his aching lungs to sting his suddenly raw throat. Ed squeezed his eyes shut against another flare of pain as he coughed again. Before him, Colonel Mustang was watching him with consternation. He could feel Alphonse's hand on his back and his concerned questions in his ear.

But, yes, if he counted up his pounding head, beyond-sore muscles, overall discomfort of weariness, and the added cough and the pain it produced, he would simply say it hurt. A lot.

He eventually gained control of his breathing, however, and tried to swallow past the irritation in his throat. Ed looked up at last, immediately noticing the colonel's change in position. He moved his gaze up from the man's feet to his face, which was shooting him a pensive glance.

_Knock-knock._

At the sound, the adult looked in the direction of the front if his house. "Stay put," he ordered curtly. Then Mustang turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen. Ed watched the retreating back, nonplussed.

He heard Al inhale to speak again so he raised a hand, silencing the younger. Al gave a displeasured frown. Ed gently knocked Alphonse's arm before waving one hand in a dismissive gesture, mouthing "_I'm fine_," to Al. He wasn't about to try speaking again and risk sending himself into another coughing fit. This was hurting his pride; he couldn't speak, which made him feel weak in front of his brother and, if he _did_ try, the consequences would make him seem all the more pathetic. This in mind, he sought to wipe the skepticism from the copper haired boy's face, holding a hand to his throat and mouthing, "_Just lost my voice_," with as casual a shrug as he could muster up.

Ed shot Al a look of self-confidence and removed his hand—though, he wanted to keep it there to possibly massage away the pain—while he internally scowled at this new inconvenience. It was all Mustang's fault; he'd been the one who'd made Edward yell like that.

Two pairs of feline ears pricked forward as the front door was opened, sparing them from any further exchange. They both faced in that direction, attentions caught.

"Good morning, Lily," the colonel's voice spoke. "What brings you here?"

"Good mornin', Roy," answered a woman's voice. "I heard you were under the weather, so I thought I'd make you some soup to get you feelin' better."

Taking a slow breath so as to not irritate his throat, Edward rose to his feet, placing a finger over his lips and giving Al a _shush_ sign. Alphonse complied with a doleful look of protest.

"You're too kind," said Mustang, his tone a perfect model of cordiality. Ed crept across the kitchen until he reached the entranceway.

"So how've you been?" Edward peeked out of the kitchen.

"Fine– er, besides having this cold." Mustang faked a cough. "How did you know that I was sick? I don't remember telling anyone…"

"Oh, you know me," the newcomer said as she came into Ed's view, "I'm always on top o' things. Nothin' gets by without my knowin'."

"Of course."

Edward blinked. Before him was a woman—obviously. She had red hair, green eyes, a fair complexion, and smiling lips positioned above a mass that appeared to be switching between a double- and triple-chin, depending on how she moved her head. She was in her late-thirties and looked to weigh about four hundred pounds as she turned sideways to better step into the house, offering, "Why don't I put it in the kitchen for you? Don't wanna wear you out…"

"Oh, no, that's quite alright! I can manag–"

"What's that, Roy?" the woman suddenly asked and Ed realized that he'd been spotted.

The blond backpedalled quickly as Mustang stuttered, "What–? Wait– I'm not– I–it's nothing, really! You don't have to– Hey, come back here!" But the plea fell on deaf ears as the heavy thud of footsteps approached the kitchen area at an alarmingly quick pace.

Edward glanced around desperately for somewhere to hide, coming up with naught. With no other apparent alternative, Edward hastily snatched a dishtowel hanging beside the sink and flung it over Al's head, just as the footsteps reached the entranceway. However, at the same time, lighter, quicker footsteps overtook the heavier ones, darting into the kitchen and Ed felt something smack into the top of his head. He flinched back from the impact but turned around to see four apples rolling lopsidedly across the counter and the part of Colonel Mustang that wasn't obscured by the whicker basket that the man was holding on the younger's head. The blond tilted his face up to spare Mustang a look that bore a unique trait of unimpressed incredulity.

There was a sudden gasp replacing the preceding footfall, followed by, "Roy, they're _adorable_!"

Edward flattered his hears beneath their hiding place as the woman's voice reached a painful octave. One of the apples thudded to the kitchen floor, rolling toward the far wall, in between the woman's advancing strides.

"Lily," Roy spoke, but was interrupted without pause.

"They're playing dress-up!" Lily exclaimed with big, adoring eyes. "They're dressing up to be just like their daddy!" Edward's tail flicked with ire at the assumption and the teen quickly remembered to pull the furry appendage up out of sight. The redhead leaned down to stare at Al, lips pursed before inquiring in a babyish tone, "Were you gonna make Daddy his food?" Alphonse scooted back a bit, looking perturbed. Upon receiving no immediate reply, the gargantuan woman turned to Roy, the folds of fat around her waist bouncing at the movement. "When did you get married?"

"'Married'?" repeated the man in surprise.

Lily's eyes widened and her eyebrows went up as if trying to grab hold of to her hairline. "_Roy_," she uttered in a shocked tone, "You and Riza didn't–"

"No, of course not," the man rebuked.

"Then…" The newcomer's eyes grew larger still and her eyebrows shot up the hide behind the similarly colored curls on her forehead. "Roy," she said in a breathy tone, a scandalous look forming across her chubby face, "They aren't…_mine_ are they?"

"A–" the alchemist began before cutting himself off and remaining silent for several moments. "Lily, think about that for a moment."

Lily placed a hand to her chest. "I _am_!"

"Don't you think you might've remembered something like that?"

"Roy, darling, you know how my memory is!"

"No," Roy said, pronouncing the words very clearly, "they aren't 'yours'." The woman let out a relieved sigh. Ed looked to see Al shooting him a disturbed glance. "They're…the sons of a friend. I'm watching them for her while she's out of the country."

"How sweet! What're their names?"

Mustang heaved a sigh and stopped holding the basket to Ed's head, then pointed to each child. "This's Edmund. That one's Alec."

"Well, hello there, Edmund and Alex. My name's Ms. Royal, or you can call me Ms. Lily, alright?"

"It's Alec," Mustang corrected.

"I know, that's what I said." She turned her attention to Edward. "Can you tell me how old you are, Eddy?" Ed was too unnerved by Ms. Royal's forward mannerism to think clearly enough to form any type of response. He also realized that he didn't want to risk speaking again, anyway. "You don't have to talk, honey, you can just show me on your fingers." No, he couldn't; not unless he was about to grow another pair of fingers on each hand. At that moment, though, his thoughts veered in different directions as the woman leaned down to face him and he had a clear view of her ample chest. Edward averted his eyes and felt his face heat up in abashed discomfiture. "Oh, he's shy," was the conjecture that sprouted from Lily's lips.

The next instant, the blond chimera found himself buried faece first in her bosom as Lily pulled him into a tight hug. He was practically lying across her sagging belly. Along with repulsion, Ed was met with a sudden and uncomfortable wash of teenage hormones that flooded his veins with the new position.

He had never been this close to a woman's breasts before. This was disgusting; she was so fat! But wasn't what breasts were, fat? Did the woman even _realize_ what she was holding him against? Did she care? Was this behavior just natural of overweight women? Was he supposed to be enjoying this rare experience? He never wanted to do this again. But big breasts were supposed to be a good thing. Did you have to calculate in the rest of the person's bodyweight before determining such a thing? Were there n–?

"Lily, he can't breathe," Mustang admonished, though Edward had no way of seeing the man right then. The firm grip relaxed, allowing Edward to quickly pry himself away from Ms. Royal. Cheeks hot, the teenager struggled to regain his composure, making sure to breathe steadily to forestall another coughing fit.

"Oh, Roy," came Lily's accusatory tone as Ed felt a pudgy hand press up against his burning face, "you gave the poor boy your cold! Shame on you."

"Really now," Roy said, faking concern. "I should probably put him to bed, in that case. I hope you don't mind…" The man took hold of one of Lily's arms, his fingers easily sinking into the flabby skin beneath her sleeve.

"Not at all. You can go give Eddy a nap and I'll talk with Alex." Lily turned with the alchemist's tug, giving Al a smile, but Mustang kept her rotating until she faced the kitchen doorway.

"I don't think that's a good idea. They could both use some sleep. How 'bout we let them?" He was guiding her across the floor.

"Ooh," she cooed and turned to bat her eyelashes at the other adult, "should we head over to my place?"

"No, I don't think so. I'll just stay here and take care of them."

"But you're ill, too! How're you gonna take care of two boys if you're just as bad off?"

"I can manage just fine, trust me."

"If you say so, darlin'. But I still–" By then, the pair had left the kitchen area and their voices were coming from the living room.

A few exchanges later there was a forceful, "_Goodbye_, Ms. Royal." Then Mustang reentered the kitchen with a large glass bowl in hand. Edward removed the fruit basket from his head and Al limped over to join his brother. The alchemist regarded the boys for a moment. "Do you think I planned that?"

"Huh?" Ed whispered. His throat burned and tickled threateningly, but he closed it until the sensation died down.

"I asked if you think I planned all that."

Ed slowly shook his head and Al offered, "Not really…" What was Mustang getting at?

"You sure?"

Ed nodded skeptically.

With a haughty smirk, the onyx-eyed man set the bowl Lily Royal had evidently delivered onto the counter. "Then you'd have no reason to assume that I've poisoned this, too."

The blond found no comeback when his mind reached for one. Truthfully, he had been thinking the exact same thing. His eyes shifted and saw Alphonse staring at him with large, hopeful eyes. Honey-brown ears were pointed forward in attentive anticipation.

No one could say no to a face like that, not even bullheaded Edward. So he nodded.

Victorious, the colonel reached into his cupboard and pulled out two bowls. Edward's outward negativity belied his true feelings. Because, secretly, he was thrilled by the fortune of this turn of events.

When Al beamed thankfully at his older sibling, Ed dropped his scowl, flashing Alphonse a grin. "Told you," he whispered, lightly punching Al's arm.

The pure happiness on Al's face was enough to extinguish Ed's animosity. The elder felt his own features softening and refusing to fully recreate the rancorous frown he desired when he looked at Mustang again. The adult carried the two smaller bowls and complacently set them on the table.

And that first, warm taste was something that Edward would be able to remember for a very long time.

* * *

><p>Was it a good thing or just something to cause vexation when Roy found himself falling into an appropriate role in taking care of the hybrids? As they ate, he was diligent about pacing them, supervising, even going so far as to reach over and snatch the elder boy's bowl away. This earned him a snarl, but he remained obdurate. Even Al had been enlivened by the appearance of food, and had childishly carried on a brief round of tug-of-war with his spoon when Roy tried to take it from him. He felt like a father with two rebellious children.<p>

Not exactly something Mustang was fond of imagining.

Still, it wasn't _too_ painful—with the exception of the bruise on his temple. Taking away precious food made for a very sullen Ed who was seemingly practiced in the art of using metal spoons as projectile weapons.

Roy distractedly rubbed at the bruise, silently thanking Lily for not making anything thick enough to require forks.

With the meal came major mood changes from the two brothers. By the end of the meal—it'd lasted nearly three hours, pausing frequently so the kids couldn't eat too quickly—the younger had become the more talkative one while the older had quieted down.

However, now the boys seemed to be content with the amounts consumed and were in the living room with Mustang. Arms wrapped around his knees, the copper-haired one was sitting before the fire Roy had built in the fireplace; his scant clothing obviously didn't suffice. The colonel had meant to go upstairs and retrieve something more for the brothers, but he was hesitant to leave them alone. This unease was only heightened by the older hybrid's sudden lax demeanor. Ed had been sitting by his sibling for a time, whispering conversations that Al eagerly upheld, but had strayed over to the couch after a bit. This had ended all conversation between them beyond a query from the younger when the blond had moved.

The younger's eyes watched the flames twist and crackle. The older child, Roy could conclude by his posture, was doing the same, but kept hiding his face from the man. Despite his slight curiosity Mustang ignored the odd behavior.

He hadn't poisoned the kid or anything, had he? Just for assurance, the colonel checked the boys' papers for any such insinuation. He didn't find much to support the theory. On the other hand, though, he _did_ spot something he'd forgotten about. Setting down the page with Mrs. Rockbell's handwriting scrawling across it, Roy rose from his seat and, after a brief trip to the kitchen, returned with some ice wrapped in a dishrag.

The alchemist spared a glance toward the elder hybrid; Ed merely returned the look with a tight face before shrugging a shoulder to cover it once more. Seeing as how he wasn't likely to get the normal response form the teen, Roy handed the icepack to Al.

"I think you're supposed to use this," he told the youth while pointing to the bandaged ankle. Again, there was no reaction form the blond when the injured boy accepted the offering, excluding the golden eye that was peeping out from underneath a baggy, white sleeve.

"Thanks," Al said.

"Sure."

Large eyes stared up at him, the kid's mouth moving slightly as if he wanted to say more, his expression thoughtful. Mustang turned before anything more could be spoken.

The older teen still wasn't making any objections and this was unsettling to Roy. Therefore, he paid extra attention to Ed. His glances grew less and less discreet as Roy observed the teenager, who only shifted around occasionally and began shooting Mustang frustrated scowls. These looks became nastier each time they were given.

At last, the grumpy guest turned his back completely on Roy. This left the man to sigh and wonder why teenagers were so moody, if this was affected by their…unique nature in any way, and what had made the boy upset in the first place.

Not that he was interestes in knowing. No, it was just a passing thought.

One of the many that had slivered through his mind during the passing hours.

It was only midday.

Just a day and a half more and he could pass them on to Hughes. But, until then, he had to survive.

* * *

><p><strong>Now...tell me, who was expecting her to me a Mary-Sue? <strong>(:

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><strong>| Don't click it... |<strong>  
><strong>| ...and I will be sad. |<strong>

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	14. s ᴛ ɪ ʟ ᴛ ᴇ ᴅ – r o l e s

****Sí, estoy horrible. Cierto. Estoy muy horrible. Soy una procrastinador. Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento... ****:(

****I'm a horrible procrastinator. Forgive me? You don't have to. I'm awful at managing time. Sorry… But, to make up for it, I believe this is the longest chapter so far. And I still hope you enjoy it. **Titulado: ****F U N C I O N E S – a r t i f i c i a l e s .**

****But thanks, ****_awesomenaruto_**, for always beta'ing my work.** :)

****|Setting: Canon. Amestris.**  
><strong>|Time: 1913, early spring. April 5th.<strong>  
><strong>|Edward Elric: No automail. Pickpocket and 14 year-old chimera. <strong>  
><strong>|Alphonse Elric: No armor. Pickpocket and 13 year-old chimera.<strong>  
><strong>|Roy Mustang: The Flame Alchemist. Colonel.<strong>  
><strong>|Maes Hughes: Lieutenant Colonel. Husband to Gracia.<br>|Gracia Hughes: Wife to Maes.  
>|Elicia Hughes: 4 year-old daughter to Gracia and Maes.<br>********|All characters retain their respective ages.  
><strong>******|All keep their original appearances from the first anime—for hair color—and personalities.****

****~ T S N****

* * *

><p><strong><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>**-TheSleepingNeko-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 14 :.<br>****S T I L T E D – r o l e s**  
><strong>[<strong>_Two hybrids and the instructed_**]**

* * *

><p>"Where do you think she learned to cook like that?" Al quietly asked in reference to Ms. Royal and the meal they'd just eaten.<p>

Ed shrugged, eyes on the fire before him. Then, bringing his mind back to the world again, he looked at Al and mouthed, "_What does it matter?_"

Alphonse bit his lip lightly. "I was just thinking… You remember how Mom used to make food for us like that? It makes me wonder how she learned, who taught her. Is it always just passed on from mother to daughter? Yet, those recipes change a little as they're passed form person to person and you end up with so many different tasting things. Did they all start form just a few foods? And how does someone automatically know what tastes best with certain foods while others don't have a clue? I don't think you or I could cook that well. What d'you think?"

Edward shrugged halfheartedly and turned his attention back to the source of heat before them, resting his chin on his shirt-covered knees. His head hurt.

"You know, you could at least say something once in a while, Brother." Ed shifted his eyes over to his brother and let the corner of his mouth twitch up. "I don't mean literally. But couldn't you _act_ like you're interested in what I'm saying? I feel like I'm talking to a wall."

The blond nodded, suppressing a shiver along with the urge to wipe his running nose. Instead, he would just bury his nose against his knees and wait for it to stop. He understood that the act of eating had made his little brother feel much better—it had done the same for him, too—but he'd really appreciate it if Al would stop talking.

"Am I really that boring to listen to?" Ed shook his head, eyes forward. "…Liar," the boy accused, letting himself droop sideways to lean his head on Edward's shoulder.

Edward saw the goldenrod-colored ear out of the corner of his eye and pursed his lips with an idea. Tensing his sore neck muscles enough to turn his head a tiny bit, the elder boy blew gently at the ear. It twitched rapidly for a second at the current of air. Ed smiled secretively and did it again. He got the same reaction along with Alphonse shifting with distracted irritation.

It took another two times for Al to catch on and pull his head away. "Hey, stop it," he said with a disapproving wrinkle of his brow. Ed smiled and ruffled Al's hair. The younger boy pouted playfully while his tail swiped the floor as if expecting more mischievousness. Again, Ed buried his nose in the shirt Mustang had lent him. "Brother, do you think Mr. Mustang is still trying to kill us?"

Edward closed his eyes and lifted his shoulders to show indecision, before tipping his head to the side a little and nodding lightly, facing the fireplace once again. For all he knew, the reason he felt so bad right now was because that creep and poisoned his food. His mind, though, was too muggy to properly look back and remember the course of their meal and notice any opportunity that the man might have had to do anything to his food…

"Why?" Opening his eyes, Ed stood up, muscles in his legs aching anew. As he wearily stepped over to the couch, Al asked behind him, "What're you doing?"

Sitting down, Ed forced his expression to one of nonchalance. "It's not as hard as the floor," he whispered back. Al's grayish eyes flicked over his sibling with inquisitiveness. With a beckoning smile, he countered, "But it's warmer over here."

"All the more for you," Ed whispered back while he situated himself, pulling his knees up and under his shirt.

The look on Al's face after that was of something the older Elric would almost call disappointment. But he couldn't gather why Alphonse would be looking at him like that. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Mustang watching him. The guy was seated in a recliner, feet propped up, and those papers in his hands. Could he not go without them for one single hour?

He tossed the man a dirty look. This seemed to work, as the obsidian eyes directed themselves back at the paper.

Ed wanted to close his eyes. But not in front of Al and Mustang. He rubbed at his nose. His sense of smell had pretty much died on him. Sure, it had been rather untrustworthy the last few days, but he'd felt much better yesterday. Today, however, it had worsened bit by bit. Everything, actually, had felt worse and worse. His head and neck, arms and feet…

There were those eyes again, watching. Childishly, and in hopes of getting the guy resume his prior activity, Edward stuck out his tongue. While this action did make his throat hurt a bit, it also produced the desired effect.

But ten minutes later, Ed noticed Mustang's eyes on him once more. Why did the man seem to be interested in him?

The teen glared at him again, wanting the man to direct his attention elsewhere.

So he could relax.

Close his eyes.

Let go of the detached expression he was forcing his features into.

Lie down, curl up, maybe sleep…without Al or Mustang being able to catch him with his guard down.

He wanted to blow his nose, he realized and wiped it across his sleeve like he had done at least ten times already. He caught the quick flick of the Alchemist's eyes in his direction. Ed flashed another mean look, but it was fringed with more impatience than he had wanted.

He wished he could tell the guy to stop, stop looking at him! Ask him why, make him _stop_. However, he could do no such thing. The only solution he had was to pull his knee up and drape his arm over it, obscuring his face. Hopefully, the dark haired man wouldn't be reading his body posture.

It wasn't long later that Mustang rose from his armchair and headed into his kitchen. There were a few, unidentifiable noises from within, and then the adult reemerged into the living room.

The grown-up looked to the teenager, as if waiting for some reaction. Ed wouldn't give on. So he just pulled his shoulder up to hide his face; it was easier when he didn't constantly have to keep looking like he felt fine. Still, he left enough room below his arm to be able to keep an eye on the two, not willing to leave them unsupervised. From where he sat, Edward watched suspiciously as the alchemist handed Alphonse a rag that seemed to contain a small ball of something; probably ice.

I think you're supposed to use this," said the man.

"Thanks," the young boy replied with after a moment's hesitation. He took the offered ice pack and applied it accordingly.

"Sure."

Al stared up at Mustang. Mustang turned away, returning to his chair.

Alphonse's shoulders slumped.

Silence reigned once more and Edward drew the sleeve of his shirt across his nose again. He resisted the urge to sniff hard; that would only alert the room's other occupants to his discomfort. And he was putting his all into preventing that.

As if to challenge this, though, Colonel Mustang appeared to be a little too interested in the older of his two charges. Why couldn't the man find interest in what Alphonse was doing? Al had nothing to hide and, in fact, seemed quite lonely without someone to carry on a conversation with. Two birds with one stone.

But _no_, the colonel had to be curious with the _elder boy_.

Yet again, the adult's gaze had wandered over to the blond chimera. Ed bared his teeth this time, letting out an angry huff that rang of ire and aggravated frustration.

The eyes went back to where they belonged and Edward turned his back so as to prevent any further interactions. What was going on in the man's head? Did it even matter?

No. What held most of the older Elric's attention at the moment were his sore and aching muscles, his dry throat, fatigued limbs, and headache throbbing in his skull.

The teen could feel and count every beat of his heart as it pounded away. He could even hear it. His head pounded again and again…and again…and again…relentlessly. Placing his hand to his temple, the hybrid located a vein. He laid his finger along it, eyes closed, and felt as it pulsed with each heartbeat. He was exhausted from this façade.

If only he could rest…

The blond didn't know exactly when he had fallen asleep. But he knew when he woke up. Mustang was standing over him, causing the teenager to recoil in disconcerted alarm.

"You're just making this harder for everyone," came a belittling remark from the colonel as he looked down at Ed.

Still trying to determine his bearings, Ed attempted to form a query, but was soon reminded of muteness bestowed on his vocal chords currently. As he attempted to rise, the elder of the two boys felt something against his shoulder and turned to see Al there, gently forcing him back down.

"It's alright," Alphonse assured with a small smile. Then the blond felt something cool touch his forehead. Whipping it back around—which, Ed decided, he didn't want to do again anytime soon—Edward found Mustang's hand retreating to the man's side. A disapproving look was set on his face.

"You're supposed to tell me if something's wrong. Is that too much to ask, or did your brain fall out of those big ears of yours?" The question was scathing and Ed found a snarl forming on his lips.

But before he could form a whispered reply, Al spoke up in a gentler tone, "Brother, why were you trying to hide it? It's not like I'm going to get mad at you for feeling bad when you're sick."

Ed disliked how Mustang was addressing him but, worse, was how Alphonse was speaking to him. At least with the angry tone he could respond in kind. But with Al's understanding, concerned, and unintentionally-demeaning way of speaking left Ed with no easy response.

The alchemist's accusation seemed to be the one Ed was more willing to respond to. But would he really chose to converse with the stranger over his own brother?

He felt trapped.

Between Mustang's unfamiliar persona and Alphonse's degrading one. He didn't want his little brother to show concern for him, especially in front of Colonel Mustang. Which left him with neither option.

So he simply buried his head in his arms.

"Ed?" It was Al's voice. The younger's hand was on Ed's upper arm, jostling it slightly.

Edward let out a puff of air through his nose in acknowledgement to what Al was saying. Though, this brought about the need to wipe his nose once more.

"Geez, kid, you know there're better things for that than the sleeve of one of my shirts," spoke Mustang in a gruff way. Ed felt something lightly land on his head. He reached his fingers up, pulled the object down, and examined it. It was a handkerchief. Eagerly taking and using it, Ed found his nose feeling quite a bit better before it ever crossed his mind to refuse the item.

Staring at it, Ed wondered if Mustang wanted the handkerchief back or not.

Ed wasn't going to ask; he couldn't, anyway. So he just stayed as he was, staring at the used piece of fabric on his hand.

This was strangely upsetting to him. He felt like he was losing control of some things. Many things. But he didn't know what he was doing wrong.

There he was, trapped between Mustang's petulance and Al's solicitousness, and feeling sore and weary. He was sure he looked like a little kid in this position, and yet, he didn't know of any other action to take; he didn't know what to do if he chose to raise his head and face this unexplainably distressing situation. He'd just be a loss.

Pride was battling against pride.

So he chose the option with the more appealing outcome: sleep.

Remaining in that position, face directed downward and hidden by his arms, Edward listened to Mustang mumble something about teenagers and their moods. There was a tired sigh, then the adult left the boys. But Al stayed with him. The younger tried to talk with his sibling a bit in the beginning. However, his attempts died away as Ed kept shrugging away the few spoken words in a way that conveyed he didn't want to talk about anything.

He just wanted to think. To sort out this confusion that was forming within him.

And, while those types of complex ponderings were best discerned alone, Edward was grateful for Al's company.

* * *

><p>"You seem to have something on your mind, dear," Gracia commented to her husband. Hughes glanced up, realizing that this was at least the third such time that he'd spaced out. He gave his wife a sheepishly apologetic smile.<p>

"Sorry," he offered.

Gracia sat down on the couch beside Maes. "Does it have anything to with the work that kept you away overnight?"

Maes blinked, but then gave his wife a rueful arching of one eyebrow. "Am I that easy to see through?"

"For me you are." The affirmation was accompanied with the woman placing her hand on Maes' lower arm. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"Nah," the man said, running his fingers through his hair, "it's not anything you need to be burdened with."

"If you're not willing to share your problems with the woman you're married to, and then what will you ever do?"

"It's not like that," Maes amended. "Just…some issues at work, is all."

"Are you not allowed to talk about it?" Gracia asked understandingly.

Maes sighed wearily. "Not exactly…"

"Then what—"

"Mommy, Mommy! Daddy!" cried Elicia, running into the living room. A look of horror was spread across her rosy little cheeks. "Mishter Bear fell into the potty!"

"He _what_?" asked both Hughes parents in unison.

"He fell into the potty! And now he'sh getting all wet!" She sounded desperate as she wailed, "He'sh gonna _drown_!"

"I'll fix it," Maes said with a sigh, pushing himself up from the couch.

"No, I'll do it," Gracia corrected. She gave her husband a knowing look. "You go use the phone. Don't act like you're surprised; you've been staring at it all day like you were expecting a call."

"Mommy, come _on_! Hurry!" Elicia began tugging on her mother's arm, pulling her along with urgency.

"Alright, sweetie. I'm coming. Now why on earth did you have Mr. Bunny near the potty?"

"Becaushe he hadda go!"

Gracia's following admonishment sounded down the hallway as the two ladies left. Maes was already at the phone, ringing up Roy's number while giving an unrelieved appreciative smile in the direction of the hallway.

It took a little while for someone to pick up on the other end. But then Hughes heard his friend's voice through the receiver, asking to know who was calling.

"Hiya, Roy," Maes greeted jovially. "How're things over at your place?"

"_Hughes?_" A sigh. "_As well as can be expected."_

"You holding up alright?"

"_Yeah, just fine._" It wasn't hard to detect the sarcasm lacing the colonel's voice.

"Come on, Roy, it can't be that bad," Maes goaded, turning around a bit so that he faced the window.

"_I never said it was._"

"You sure sounded like that it was."

"_Don't assume._"

"Well, in that case, you wanna tell me how things are going? You managing?"

"_I already told you that I was._"

"How well?"

"_I'll live 'til you come and take them off my hands._"

"Don't be so dramatic, Roy. They're just kids. What all has happened since I left?"

"_Well, to start with, the older one won't let me get within two feet of his brother without flipping out. The younger one isn't as much of a pain, but_ he _was the one who had us up past midnight when he wet the bed._" Hughes gave a sympathetic grimace. "_So that meant running them a bath, changing the sheets, and waiting around for them to get finished. And, when they finally were, they complained about the clothes I let them borrow—but it wasn't like they could sleep in their old ones. Then, this morning, the younger one wanted something to eat. Of course, the older wouldn't let him near the food; kept insisting that I'd poisoned it. He thinks I poison_ everything_._"

"Have you gotten them to eat anything yet?" Hughes asked, concerned.

"_Yeah. Lily brought some soup over earlier. They had that._"

"'Lily'?"

"_Lily Royal, my neighbor._" When Hughes didn't reply, Roy spoke again, "_Fat, red-headed lady with a few screws missing?_"

"Oh, yeah…her."

"_She thought they were mine._" Maes grinned. "_I know you're smiling, Hughes, and that isn't funny._"

"Sure it is, Roy," Maes cajoled. Then he switched back to the topic at hand. "Anyway, has anything else happened, or is it just the normal stuff?"

"_Define 'normal'. But no, besides the older one yelling at me too loudly that he lost his voice, nothing much. They're just sitting in the living room now. I gotta ask Lily what she put in that soup 'cause it seems to have flipped their personalities._"

"How so?" Maes asked, sitting down on his couch.

"_The younger one suddenly started talking, while the older one got all quiet and unresponsive. He even left his brother's side and went and sat alone on the couch. Didn't even react when I got near Alec. Just keeps glaring at me like he's mad or something._"

"Well, have you asked him what's wrong?"

"_What? No. Why would I want to do that?_"

"You said that he seemed upset."

"_I said he seemed angry, Hughes. Not upset._"

"Being angry _is_ being upset. You just express it a different way. Same with being sad, scared, or startled."

"_Be that as it may, I'm not asking him anything. The kid hates me and I can't say I'm too fond of him, either. Besides, he'd have a hard time answering since he can't really speak that well._"

Maes leaned back on the couch, suddenly feeling like a parent parenting…a parent as he said, "I feel like you're not trying, Roy. They're _your _responsibility. _You _have to keep them alive and well. If something's not right, you gotta find out what it is, make sure it isn't something big."

Hughes heard Roy's telephone-muffled sigh. "_I hear you, Hughes. But I doubt the kid will even react. He's been really quiet. To be honest, it's kinda creeping me out._"

"All the more reason to speak with him. Who knows, maybe there _is_ something wrong and you'll be glad you checked into it. Or it could just be moody teenager-ness. It might just be that the medication the Rockbell doctors have given him wore off." Maes sat forward on his couch and rested one elbow on his knee. "You have to remember that these boys are still sick."

There was a pause. "_What should I do then?_"

"What should you do _when_?"

"_After I find out what the problem is._"

"Well, if it is something big, call me back; we'll decide what to do then. But if he's just grumpy, I'd say to leave him alone or if he's not feeling well, you can try to make him feel better. Anything other than that, you can probably decide what to do yourself or call me. Is Alec behaving strangely at all?"

"_Don't think so. But I'll keep an eye on him._"

"You do that. Make sure they drink plenty of water, as well."

"_Will do._"

"Anything else I can help you with?"

"_Getting over here sooner?_"

Maes laughed. "I'll try." Gracia walked back into the room then. "Hey, Roy? I gotta go. But I'll be there tomorrow night. That sound alright?"

"_Yeah, sure. See you then._"

"Alright. G'bye." He waited for his friend's farewell, but, when it was not forthcoming, the man hung up the phone, turning to his wife.

"Are you going away again?" Gracia asked, looking a little disappointed.

Maes smiled apologetically. "Duty calls."

The blonde woman didn't pursue the subject. Instead, she patted her husband's hand. "Mr. Bunny is no longer with us." Maes raised his eyebrow. "We are not keeping that thing, Maes," Gracia said in all seriousness. The man bit his lip, and then rose from where he was seated. "_Dear_," the woman said in warning.

"Elicia!" he called. "Where did Mommy put Mr. Bunny?"

* * *

><p><strong>Now, how 'bout an "aww" and a review?<strong> :D

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	15. ᴘ ʀ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ᴅ ɪ ᴛ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ ᴅ – o u t i n g

**¿Por qué? ¿Por qué no? Why didn't I have this up yesterday?  
>Ay... It's this little thing called, "Ooh! Chuck (my portable word processor, which I've had for 2+ years now) can use accent marks! Yay! Oh, what does this do, that case? Wow! I can use that symbol, this one, the odd little squiggly one... Oh! And there's that one, too!"<strong> *click* *tap-tap* *cl-click* *clack* O.O** "Tess, I can set him on a _timer_, too!" ***gasp*** "What does this do? Cool! And..." ***long silence*** "..._Nooooooooooooo_. Hermana...Hermanita? I...I just... I just erased...the entire file...! No! Nooo! Hold me! No, dame Peach (my laptop) so I can figure out if I can undo this!"**

**Yeah, I was loca...tonta. But there were so many things that I'd just found out, and I couldn't resist! ¿Soy horrible? Sí, sí.**

**Pero, ahora aquí está. Y ese es bien, ¿no? Thanks for your patience, chicas! **^_^  
><strong>Gracias, my beta, <strong>_awesomenaruto_**!**

**Se llama: H U I D A – p l a n i f i c a d a .**  
><strong>Enjoy! And review! <strong> :D

********|Setting: Amestris. Roy's place.  
>|Time: 1913. 6th of April.<br>**|Ed Elric: No automail. ****************Age 14. ****************Cat-chimera and a pickpocket.  
><strong>**************|Al Elric: Human-ish. ****************Age 13. ****************A a cat-chimera and a pickpocket.  
><strong>**************|Roy Mustang: Colonel and the Flame Alchemist.  
><strong>**************|All characters retain their original appearances, personalities, and ages.**************************************

**********~ T S N**********

* * *

><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>-TheSleepingNeko-

* * *

><p><strong>.: 15 :. <strong>  
><strong>P R E M E D I T A T E D – o u t i n g<strong>  
><strong>[<strong>_The shrewd ones and the impatient_**]**

* * *

><p>It was the sound of a bird that woke Al. A morning dove, to be specific.<p>

"Cooo-_woo _ooh ooh," it sang. "Cooo-_woo _ooh ooh." While the sound was fairly pleasant in itself, its repetitiveness was enough to rouse Alphonse into a wakeful state eventually. "Cooo-_woo _ooh ooh oooh."

Yawning, the young Elric boy pushed himself upright and stretched, bending his legs a little and twisting his shoulders to the side as he flexed one arm out behind him and yawned again. Then he brought his attention to the teenager sleeping on the bed next to him. The blond had a relaxed expression on his face, the flush from yesterday all but gone.

Al smiled to himself; he wouldn't ever speak of the few small pills he had permitted Mustang to administer to his brother. No, he was not that naïve. He had first checked the pills, examined them, sniffed them, and made sure they were safe before approving them. Then they had been dropped into Edward's next spoonful of soup. Al knew that Ed wouldn't notice; the older Elric was half-asleep and, if he was out-of-it enough to allow someone to feed him, then he certainly wouldn't notice a few pills slipped into his meal.

The remaining soup had been finished off by Alphonse, himself. It had still tasted just as good as the first time around. Alphonse smiled in remembrance and his stomach growled; having had a taste of regular meals, his stomach seemed to be fond of the idea and was demanding more already.

Al turned his attention back to his brother, leaning over him. A while later, after their meal, Mr. Mustang had scooped the sleeping Edward up into his arms, dutifully informed Al as to what he was doing, and carried the elder boy up to bed. Al would bet that Mr. Mustang had not expected to greet the copper haired boy halfway on his return trip. At least, going by the man's startled reaction. After that, the boy had allowed the colonel to help him the rest of the way.

Edward would never have allowed this. But there was something about this man, his mannerism, that made Al feel like he was _supposed _to trust him. And Al didn't know what it was, which was all slightly disorienting.

This unexplainable trust was only heightened when Mr. Mustang took the time to change both boys' bandages and give Alphonse a glass of water; and especially so by the reluctant way in which he did these things.

Below him, Edward sighed softly and his neck twitched a little. Two tiny slivers of gold appeared as Ed's eyelids opened the slightest bit. They stayed like that for several moments before drifting shut. Then they flickered upward, closed again, and then scrunched up a tiny bit.

When they opened all the way, they were accompanied by furrowed brows. "…Al?" The golden-blond's voice was still raspy and didn't come out like it should have, but it was significantly better than yesterday and at least came out fairly audibly.

Al smiled and flicked his ears a couple of times. "Who else?"

Ed twisted his mouth to the side so that Al couldn't tell whether it was in humor or confusion. Maybe both. Then Ed's eyes flicked to his surroundings. "When did we get back in here?"

"Brother, you're supposed to whisper," Al admonished. "You lost your voice, remember?"**(1)**

Edward rolled his eyes, but obeyed. "When'd we get in here?"

"Last night."

"No, duh."

"Well, you asked."

"Alright, then _how'd _we get in here?"

"Mr. Mustang. How else do you think?"

Edward made a face that was dangerously close to a pout. "Figures."

"Brother, what's done is done." Al was going to speak further, but, at that moment, his belly chose to make its emptiness known again.

"Hungry?" Ed asked with an arched eyebrow, and Al suspected that he might have felt his cheeks heat a tad bit. Edward reached his arm upward, paused to stretch the sleep out of its muscles, and plopped it on top of his little brother's head, tousling the copper hair.

"You look a lot better," Al commented.

Ed's eyebrows sank barely before his features shifted to what Al, at first, took to be true disdain. "O'course I do; I look better than everyone."

Al shook his head at his brother's façade of vanity. "You feel better?"

"You're avoiding my question."

"What? No, I'm not. What question?"

"The one about how we got up here."

"Nuh-uh, I already told you that Mr. Mustang brought us."

"Well, you weren't very specific." Ed looked peeved.

"I didn't think I needed to be." Al's copper colored tail swatted at the air behind him.

"Then you're avoiding my question about whether you were hungry or not," the blond came up with.

"I thought that was a rhetorical question. And now _you're _avoiding _mine_."

"No, I'm not," Edward denied.

So Alphonse waited a moment before asking, "Well, were you going to answer me?"

"Answer you about what?"

"About how you feel, _Ed_," Al pressed with irritation springing into his tone.

"Yeah, I feel better. Happy?"

"But _how _do you feel? And I mean other than 'fine'."

"That wasn't your original question."

"_Brother_."

"I can't say. I'm not supposed to use my voice."

"That's why you're whispering." Al was losing his patience with this childish game. However, with Ed's claim, Al realized that he had his brother caught. "Unless, of course, your throat hurts. I could get Mr. Mustang to give you some medicine." He turned his head and opened his mouth, as if to call to the man downstairs.

"N –" His hearing abandoned him briefly and Al had the presence of mind to roll off to the side, holding his throbbing skull.

He let a hissing breath escape through his clenched teeth before opening one eye to see his sibling in a similar posture, only sitting forward and grasping his forehead. His golden eyes were wide and his ears were pressed flat with pain and surprise.

"What'd…you do that for?" the older demanded of his younger brother, a tight grimace on his face.

"Me?_You're _the one who sat up!"

"_You _were gonna call Mustang!" Ed rolled his eyes up, locking his jaw open and twisting onto his side as if to say _ow, ow, ow, ow_.

"'S'till your fault," Al grouched, griping the side of his head like he could make the unwanted pain go away. He scrunched his eyes shut.

"And I thought _my _skull was hard!" Ed exclaimed.

"It is! So why'd you hit me with it?"

"Well, I didn't expect _your _skull to be so hard," the older one grumbled.

Alphonse opened his eyes, turned enough so that he could see his brother, and asked with incredulity, "What, you thought my head was gonna be _soft_?"

"_No_…" Ed moaned. "Geez!" He seemed to be mastering the art of whisper-yelling. Al shut his eyes again, only to open them when he heard Ed take a sudden breath and sneeze.

"You still didn't tell me how you feel."

"I feel like I just smacked heads with you."

"You know that that's not what I mean," Alphonse said with a sigh, relaxing back into the soft bed as the pain throbbing through his skull began to recede.

"Give it a rest, Al. You already asked me one question; you don't get another one until you answer one from me."

"Like what?"

"I dunno. I'll think up one later."

They were silent for a short while, as Al temporarily gave up on questioning Ed. The elder was too skilled at dodging—questions, that is, not skulls.

The small, tight pressure in Alphonse's stomach, which had been there for some time, faded away partially with a growl. Experimentally, he sucked in his middle, eliciting another grumble. But, when he let his waist expand back to normal size, there was another little knot, which grumbled away as well. Then there was a much larger pressure, which quickly swelled and gurgled loudly. Al lifted his head, sniffing.

"I smell food," he said. Again, his belly growled with the tug of hunger.

"I smell pain."

"You can't smell pain," Alphonse shot down.

"_I _have the better nose." To demonstrate, Edward sat up and sniffed the air. He made a grimacing face before proclaiming, "And I don't smell anything."

A sound of footsteps climbed the stairs and both boys looked in that direction. Colonel Mustang, as expected, entered through the bedroom doorway shortly after. He held a piece of toast in his hand.

Al's stomach rumbled.

"If you want anything to eat," Mustang spoke, "I want you to agree to actually eat it, first. I'm not going to go throwing away food pointlessly."

"We don't want any," Ed snapped without delay.

The colonel evaluated the older Elric brother. "The soup from yesterday is all gone. All you have is what I make for you."

Yet again, Alphonse's belly noisily made its emptiness known.

Despite this, Ed remained resolute. "No."

Here they went again.

"Your loss." Then the alchemist walked back down the hallway.

"Brother," Al pleaded once the footsteps had receded.

"Don't worry, Al. I have a plan."

"What d'you mean?" asked Al. Curiosity had his attention on Edward.

Ed gave him an assuring, if sly, smile. "Just gimmie a minute." The young teen slid off the bed and headed across the floor.

"Where are you going?" Al wanted to know when it became apparent that Edward was about to leave the room.

But the blond only gave Al a shushing finger. Anticipation beginning to pump through his veins, Al waited several minutes for his sibling's return. When it came, Alphonse had to press his lips together in an attempt to keep from smiling at Ed's most recent clothing addition: a black pair of the colonel's pants rolled up and tied at the ankles to keep them up. Al knew that there must also be a belt under the shirt Ed was still wearing.

True, both boys were a bit small for their ages, but the pants caused Edward appear more like a dwarf. The blond shot his little brother a sour look when he noticed his amusement.

"Al, I need you to distract Mr. Mustang, got it?"

"Um, okay. But, why?"

"I'm gonna go grab us some food."

"From where?"

"Don't worry about that. Just do what I told you."

"If you say so… Wait, you're going outside?" Ed was over by the window and had just started on the lock that the colonel had placed there.

"Yep." The lock came apart and the older of the two pickpockets opened the window. Before Al could protest further, the older boy was already halfway out. "Distract him, okay?" He hung on with one arm long enough to give Al a thumbs-up. Alphonse nodded, not knowing what else to do.

And then Ed was gone. And Alphonse was alone.

Time to test out his acting, Al surmised. That, and think up something distraction worthy as soon as possible.

* * *

><p>Colonel Mustang wandered around the downstairs of his house, something he'd been finding himself all-too inclined to do as of late. It wasn't like there was anything <em>else <em>to do. He couldn't go to work, couldn't go anywhere, because he had two chimera to babysit.

Pet-sit…?

But he couldn't do much of anything. He couldn't even invite someone over—a nice lady friend, perhaps—for companionship. The people whom he knew and could trust were busy and Roy wasn't just going to spend all day talking on the phone with them. He was imprisoned in his own house. And the only other ones there…didn't get along with him well.

If he could just hang on until nightfall… Oh, how he was impatient for that to come. But that was a long time away.

Roy finished the piece of toast in his hand, wiping away the dusting of crumbs from his lips. Maybe he should check on the boys again. He hadn't, after all, concluded anything about the elder chimera's health. And he probably ought to do that. Yet, he really didn't want to come across as being overly concerned with the boys. It hadn't been long since he'd come back downstairs…but he didn't trust them alone, either.

Well, he might as well do some cleaning while he was waiting for his patience to wear thin enough to stop preventing himself from heading on upstairs. And that's what he did for about ten minutes. Unsurprisingly, he didn't accomplish much, just a couple dishes and straightening the living room. After that, he found himself drawn to cleaning his own room. And this easily led to the man taking a step back into the guest bedroom.

The younger, darker haired boy was sitting on the bed, similarly to how the alchemist had left him.

"Where's your brother?" asked Roy.

"I– Um…he's asleep." The goldenrod haired boy waved his palm over a humanoid form stretched out below the covers.

"Mind if I take a look at him?" the colonel made himself ask, knowing that it was probably a smart thing to do and that the younger child would likely have little issue with his request.

"Eh? No, you can't! I – He's sleeping. Don't wake him up."

"Since when do you care?" Roy wanted to know.

The chimera puffed up his chest. "I always care; he's my brother. And I think he needs his rest. He was in a grumpy mood."

"Shocker," the man quipped under his breath.

The child's furry, feline ears sank down partially. Then, meekly, he spoke, "Um…Mr. Mustang?" Roy looked to the grayish eyes. "Uh– um, could…I ask you… Um…"

"Spit it out."

Al's face reddened. He looked up at the ceiling. "Could I ask you for a favor?"

Roy felt a little confused by the unexpected request, but more so by the shy way in which it was delivered. On the other hand, maybe the kid was finally deciding to drop some of his walls enough to ask the colonel for something.

Was that necessarily a good thing?

Hughes would say so.

"Depends," Roy answered assessing the youth before him, trying to gauge what he might be wanting. "What do you want?"

* * *

><p><strong>(1) <em>Actually<em>, you're _not_ supposed to whisper. It puts more strain on your vocal chords. But, think about it; they wouldn't have known that back then.**

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><p><strong>And now, a brief glimpse into Typo Land:<br>****"I'm now going to go throwing away food pointlessly."**

**| Please _please_ review! |**


	16. ᴍ ᴀ ɴ ɪ ᴘ ᴜ ʟ ᴀ ᴛ ɪ ᴠ ᴇ – t h i e v e s

**Hola, mis amigas. Lo siento, tuve problemas. Lo siento. Pero aquí está: ʟᴀᴅʀᴏɴᴇs — engañosos.**

**Why did this take so long? I lost my (portable) word processor, which had this chapter saved on it. Then? Either my computer wasn't working or the site wasn't, 'cause I couldn't get on to post anything. Now? Well, I finally got it to you, didn't I? I couldn't post it sooner because today was day 1 of clean-the-entire-house-from-top-to-bottom-and-let's-see-how-clean-we-can-get-it-before-the-other-half-the-family-gets-back-next-week, so I was busy tidying up, scraping windows clean, unscrewing cabinet doors, and brainstorming/giving advice on paint colors.**

**But, here it is. And I hope you can enjoy it. **:)

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: 1913, 6th of April.<br>|Eᴅ "Eᴅᴍᴜɴᴅ" Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Age 14. Cat-chimera. Pickpocket.  
>|Aʟ "Aʟᴇᴄ" Eʟʀɪᴄ: No armor. Age 13. A a cat-chimera. Pickpocket.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel, the Flame Alchemist.  
>|All characters retain their original appearances, personalities, and ages.<br>|But Lily is mine. ^w^**

**Review?**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 16 :. <strong>  
><strong>ᴍ<strong> **ᴀ** **ɴ** **ɪ** **ᴘ** **ᴜ** **ʟ** **ᴀ** **ᴛ** **ɪ** **ᴠ** **ᴇ — t** **h** **i** **e** **v** **e** **s  
>[<strong>_The escapee, the cover, and the fooled_**]**

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><p>Fourteen year-old Edward clambered down the side of Colonel Mustang's house, experience guiding his movements. He relied heavily on the gutter during his descent. When he reached the ground, Ed instinctively reached up to the back of his next. It was then that he remembered that the clothing he currently wore had no hood he could pull up over his head to both hide his features and keep himself a bit warmer. And, although the weather had improved enough not to warrant the extra insulation, the hood was still needed, Edward realized, to conceal his chimera features. He needed to find something else.<p>

However, his priorities quickly shifted as the sound of a slamming door reached his ears. Turning around quickly, he caught a glimpse of Mustang's neighbor, Lily Royal, exiting her house next door. By then, Ed's legs were carrying him across the colonel's back yard to hide him behind a large tree trunk.

There, the teen pressed a fist to his mouth as his chest constricted several times, trying to force out coughs but ending up only irritating the tickle in his throat. When his lungs stopped their futile effort at last, Ed drew his sleeve across his nose, then did so again, up and sideways, trying to rid himself of the uncomfortably damp feeling inside his nostrils. Stupid cold. He and Al seemed to be capable of fending off most minor ailments before any significant effects were felt, Al more so then he, and they usually healed from injuries surprisingly quickly. However, the cold had snuck up on the older boy, and was now happily taking residence in his body.

He rubbed at his nose again, at the same time marveling at his throat's ability to remain so incredibly dry, no matter how often he swallowed.

Ed brought his attention back to his surroundings. It occurred to him that, though the tree behind him shielded him from view of Mustang's neighbor, it left Ed in plain sight of the man himself if he so chose to glance out the kitchen window. So Edward quickly reached up and took hold of the branch nearest him, grasped it with the other hand, and hauled himself up. The bandage on his right hand made it more difficult to grip. He flipped himself upside-down and brought his legs up over the branch before reaching higher with his free hand to grab onto something farther up. When his hand came in contact with the rough texture of bark, the hybrid pulled himself upward into a sitting position.

The teen dizzily closed his eyes against the pressure that suddenly swelled to life in his skull at the abrupt change in position from upright, to inverted, and back to upright again.

No time for that now, though. Bracing himself against the tree's broad trunk, Ed pulled his legs up out of sight and balanced himself on the sturdy branch. Then he peered through the leaves that surrounded him, trying to see whether Royal had noticed him or not.

She hadn't. Instead, she was busying herself with hanging armfuls of laundry across a line in her back yard. It took a second, but a devilish smile manifested itself on Edward's face, only growing into something verging on delight when another idea sprang into the boy's head. This would be two birds with one stone. But he'd have to be quick.

The fat lady trundled across her yard, hanging up a skirt, a dress, nightgown, apron, a sock that fell down as soon as she'd turned her back, another dress, sheet, five shirts, and several other articles. That done, Royal waddled back into her house.

After several minutes without her remerging, Ed cautiously descended from his hiding spot, darted across Mustang's yard, and hopped over the fence into Ms. Lily's yard.

Praying against the woman's reappearance and for Al's ability to keep Mustang occupied long enough, Ed took a moment to ponder what his little brother must have thought up to use as a distraction.

* * *

><p>Alphonse wished that he'd been able to think up a better divergence. But it was for Ed. And himself, as well. Besides, it was a little too late to make up something else as he let the request fall from his mouth.<p>

"Can you help me to the bathroom?"

Mr. Mustang looked a little confused. "You can't go yourself?"

Al shook his head. "My ankle hurts."

"You managed to get downstairs pretty well yesterday."

Al shot the adult an aggravated look. "It hurts more now, okay? Now, are you gonna help me or do you just want me to go right here?"

It may be a small distraction, but Alphonse intended to make it last.

* * *

><p>The damp laundry waved slightly in the cool breeze as Edward scanned the various pieces fabric, searching for something suitable.<p>

Call him vain, but he didn't want to go walking around with Ms. Royal's undergarments on his head. Yet, he needed _something_ to hide his ears.

At last, finding nothing else that's work well, Ed settled on a sheet. He felt like a kid playing dress-up as he draped the white linen over his shoulders and head. When younger, he and Al would play games like this, but wearing the sheet was supposed to mean that the boy was a ghost and he would chase his brother all around the yard until their mother would catch them.

Just like back then, Ed now hoped he wouldn't be caught. Only, more depended in this than back when he was younger. And, in matching similarity, Ed stole over to Royal's house like a phantom, unseen.

His heart nearly stopped when Ms. Royal appeared in the doorway to her house, another bundle of laundry in her arms. All the boy could do was drop to the ground and pretend he was just a sheet.

As if anyone would fall for something like that.

And yet…the heavy footsteps passed by the hiding boy without pause. Louder than the footfall, though, was Ed's heartbeat in his ears—at least, that's certainly how it felt, a shiver running down his spine.

Getting over his surprise at not being discovered, Ed peeped out from under the sheet to see the redheaded woman's retreating back to him. The teen seized this chance to dart inside.

The interior of the house was small in severe contrast to its owner's size, Edward mused. How did she manage?

He knew he was getting off-track when he started looking around at the furnishings with interest. It was all irrelevant. He only needed to know where the kitchen was, and he quickly located it.

With someone _that_ size, Ed knew that it would be well stocked.

How bold of his, to steal from the lady when her back was turned. However, this was the way he'd always done these types of things; he had the hearing of a cat, among other things, and would easily be able to tell when the adult was returning from her laundry.

The teen refused to consider that, if his hearing were truly working like he would brag it was, then he should have known Royal was coming his way before their first encounter.

* * *

><p>Alright. Al decided that he had stayed in the bathroom for as long as he could without risk of the colonel getting concerned and asking embarrassing questions.<p>

He'd managed to get Mr. Mustang to stand out in the hallway for him by giving the impression that he'd barely be able to manage on his own.

But now, he needed a new distraction.

"Um, Mr. Mustang?" Al called through the door.

"Yeah?" came the reply. "You done yet?"

"Um…not exactly…" Al trailed off, deciding on which excuse to use next.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'?" the man asked, sounding like he wasn't gonna like what came next.

"I need to blow my nose!"

"So? Use the toilet paper!"

"It's not soft enough!"

"Soft–? You just came here from off the streets! Don't gimmie me any complaints about not being in the lap of luxury!"

Drat. This guy wouldn't be as easy to get things out of as Ed was. "Then could you please buy softer toilet paper?"

"Not at the moment!"

"Then do it some time soon! Otherwise, I'll get a rash and I don't think you wanna have to deal with that!"

"Just hurry it up!"

"First, you gotta get me a handkerchief and pass it under the door; I don't want my nose to keep running!"

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><p>Ed had stopped using the sheet for covering and, instead, opted to use it as a knapsack—a large one. With it sufficiently filled with food from Lily Royal's kitchen.<p>

He decided to make a hasty retreat before danger neared again.

But…how?

By his own choosing, he'd rid himself of his only coverage in the stead on food, and someone would probably notice a cat-boy sneaking out the front door of Royal's house. And he couldn't go out the back;_ she_ was back there. And Mustang might notice the lack of the teenager's presence soon. Al couldn't distract him for forever.

Ed needed to head on back.

* * *

><p>"I need a glass of water!"<p>

"There's water in the sink!"

* * *

><p>The blond crouched under the table, waiting for the woman to return. And she did. However, she turned to her kitchen.<p>

Ed resisted the urge to swear under his breath. But he knew she was bound to find out sooner or later.

Anyway, it wasn't like she could ever actually find out that it'd been _Edward_ who'd raided her refrigerator and cupboards, right?

* * *

><p>"Uh, could you get me a glass with some ice? The sink water isn't cold enough!"<p>

"You can have it when you get out!"

"But I'm thirsty _now!_"

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><p>Fortunately, the overweight female seemed oblivious to the sudden lack of her food. Her only interest rested on a glass bowl sitting on the counter. Lily grabbed it and moved it over onto a different spot on the counter.<p>

She began stirring it, taking a few tastes every so often and adding various seasonings.

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><p>"In that case, could you just bring me some plain ice? My ankle hurts again!"<p>

"Then hurry it up!"

* * *

><p>Just slightly interested, Edward Elric watched Ms. Lily disappear through her front door, bowl-of-whatever in hand.<p>

This was his chance. His chance to escape. Now he only needed to find a way to get back without being seen.

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><p>"Mr. Mustang, do you have anything I can use to cut my nails? They're getting pretty long!"<p>

Roy rolled his eyes up to the top of his head. He'd had it with this kid. What was with his all of the sudden?

"Oh! Also, I'd really like it if–"

_Knock, knock, knock!_

Eager to get away, Roy swiftly went over and descended downstairs. Who could it be?

"Um, Mr. Mustang? Sir, are you still there? Hello…?"

* * *

><p>He had made it—almost. By now, Edward could feel the effects of his cold in his body. His eyelids were uncomfortably heavy, his throat dry and very sore, his arms and legs achy, he could no longer breathe through his nose at all, and his head filled with the dully-throbbing pressure that normally came with colds and allergies.<p>

Despite this, the boy had made it thus far and now stood below their bedroom window.

_Their_ window? When had it become _theirs_?

No, no time for that. He needed to get back to Alphonse.

It took a bit of dexterity, but the chimera eventually managed to scale the house up to the sill. Once there, however, a few choice curses slipped from his lips.

This wasn't good.

* * *

><p>From downstairs there came a familiar greeting pattern. Meaning one of two things: either the colonel greeted all his guests in the exact same way with the same tone and responses, or it was Ms. Lily.<p>

He'd guess the latter.

And he would be correct in that supposition. The younger Elric boy exited the bathroom without much trouble, making his way over to and down the stairs to stick his head out and see the visitor.

She was hard to miss. Apparently, Al was, too.

"Oh, hello there, Alex!" she called upon spotting the child. "That's a cute outfit you have on, there. Are you pretending to be a kitty?"

With horror, Al realized that his fuzzy ears were in plain view. Too late, he clasped his hands over them, as if that could wipe his audience's memory of the image.

On the contrary, though, it didn't really seem to matter; the woman thought it was a costume.

* * *

><p>More swear words were muttered under Edward's breath as he, again, tried and failed to open the window. Al had wisely closed it to avoid suspicion.<p>

But now…now, Ed had no way to get back into the room; he couldn't open the window.

He needed to find another way in, without Mustang finding out!

Clumsily, Ed crawled down the drainpipe—the sheet filled with food that he carried over his shoulder made maneuvering difficult. He fell the last foot, losing his balance and snagging Mustang's pants on the piece of metal. But Edward couldn't care less about the man's precious trousers, nor the tear now in the leg.

Who knew what the alchemist would do to him if he caught his elder charge?

Dare he find out?

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><p><strong>Hey, can I go all "Hughes" on you? Good. <strong>:D  
><strong>My little brother is <strong>**_soooo_**** cute! I showed him how to use the keyboard (for something other than usernames, passwords, and cheat codes. He caught on and, with me leaning over his shoulder and showing him how to work things, spell, and giving him advice, he managed a tiny paragraph (it was really late at the time). And it was basically the beginning of this chap:**

Ed escaped out the window and hit the gutter and fell down. Then their neighbor came outside to see what had happened. So Ed decided to hide in a nearby tree and jump into Lily's backyard.

**I, personally, find that adorable of him to do. **^-^

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><p><strong>| Click the button! |<strong>


	17. ᴍ ɪ x ᴇ ᴅ — f e e l i n g s

**Estoy aquí. ¿Me extrañamos? Lo siento mucho. **:(** Mucho ha sucedido. Pero, no creo que nadie quiera leer este, sino leer aquel, por abajo.**

**So, I'll make it brief. I've experienced writer's block (again). I graduated and am now dealing with all things related to college. I'm trying to learn to drive and it stresses me out a lot (haha, see hoe I messed with you? Being homeschooled, I jump around a lot in the grades, so it's relatively impossible for you to guess my exact age. ;p). A ton of things have gotten in the way, and I _do_ have excuses... It all started with finding out my neighbor had cancer…**

**...Anyway, I'll just skip to sᴇɴᴛɪᴍɪᴇɴᴛᴏs — mezclados, and not bore you with how changed some of its formatting and I had to spend hours fixing things.** :)

**(I'll send this to** _awesomenaruto, _**like, tonig– tomorrow. I wasn't even going to post this tonight because a friend pulled me away all day [we're introducing another friend to FMA] and I didn't exactly to have time or energy...and yet, here it is.)**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon, Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. 1913, April.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. A pickpocket. Age 14. Cat chimera.  
>|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human. Hair color from first anime. Also a pickpocket. Age 13. Cat chimera.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.  
>|All characters keep their original personalities and appearances.<br>|But I own the fat lady.**

******~ T S N******

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><p><strong><strong><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>  
><strong>****-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 17 :.<br>****ᴍ** **ɪ** **x** **ᴇ** **ᴅ** **—** **f** **e** **e** **l** **i** **n** **g** **s  
><strong>**[**_The rebels and the furtive_**]**

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><p>Crap.<p>

What a truly accurate word to describe the unpleasantness of the situation Edward found himself placed in.

Alphonse was inside. With Mustang. Without someone to protect him.

Whereas Ed was outside. And he couldn't get inside because he couldn't get the window open. He would have to find another way to get in quickly _with_ the stolen food and _without_ being spotted—by Mustang or anyone else who happened to be outside. On top of that, the man would surely start searching for him soon.

Crap.

Crap, crap, crap.

How else could he get in? Well, if he thought about it, no one, besides Royal, really seemed to be out and about, right? Nobody would spot him of he, say, climbed up onto the roof? Only one way to find out, and it was now or never; time was a precious thing here.

Mind made up, Ed hastily re-scaled the drainpipe to the colonel's house. At the top, he lay flat on his back, feeling the warmth radiating off the shingles with his hands.

_Thud! Thu-thud! Thud!_

Part of his mind kept insisting that he was hearing the sudden sound of footsteps pounding up the stairs below his head. With this thought, his heartbeat sped up and so did the noise. However, after several seconds of continuous thudding, the boy realized what the noise must be.

He placed a hand over his heart, feeling it match the rhythm in his ears. He closed his eyes and took a calming breath, feeling his heartbeat slow after a bit. Having a clear mind would be best.

All of a sudden, there was the flapping of feathers as something small and sharp gripped the edge of his shoulder.

"Ah!" he exclaimed and flailed his arms and sat up, shooing the bothersome bird away. His breath caught and he had to lean to the side for a moment to cough away the dry tickle in his throat. Then he peered past the rooftop, thumbing at his neck and wishing he had one of the glasses of water that the alchemist was always shoving under his nose. But he didn't, so that was irrelevant.

Right now, he needed to get inside the house.

"I swear, you are the cutest little thing on earth!"

Al was forced to hold his breath as his face was pulled against and into Ms. Royal's upper stomach fat, temporarily robbing him of oxygen.

"Roy, darling, how did they ever end up so precious?"

"Genetics?" came the colonel's disinterested guess.

Al was finally released only to have the woman lean over and squeeze on one of his cheeks. "When we get married, Roy, I wanna have a child just like this!"

Al couldn't resist; the woman's stupidity was really getting to him. "Da'sh be I'poshiber. 'Ou 'onh rook rike Mom ad ar."

Ms. Royal's eyebrows rose in delight. "Ooh, baby talk is _soo_ cute!" She let go of the poor boy's cheek, then turned to the colonel eagerly. "What do you think he's trying to tell us?"

Alphonse immediately took to massaging his abused face. Before the man could answer, Al repeated under a mumble, "It'd be impossible if you won't look like Mom at all."

The woman rotated back around to the child, looking impressed. "My, he learns fast. It seems like just yesterday he couldn't speak a word. How time flies." She directed a nostalgic smile in the ceiling's general direction. Her smile fell into a contemplative frown. "But he is right." She shot Mr. Mustang an interested look. "Who's their mother?" Green eyes lit up. "Do you think she's be willin' to sell one?"

Al couldn't see him caretaker's initial reaction, but when he looked, the man had leaned forward, a serious expression on his face, and said, "Lily, slavery is frowned upon in this country."

Ms. Lily wagged her head a little. "You know what I mean," she retorted pointedly. "Like adoption an' stuff."

"Oh, of course. I'll ask my sister—their mother—to get right on that."

The fat lady rubbed her hands together. "Hmm, baby makin'–" Cutting herself off, she eyed the man beside her disapprovingly. "_Roy_, you must not speak of such things in front of children!" Her chest and middle wobbled as she swiveled again slightly to look sweetly down at Alphonse. "Cover your ears, baby."

Abruptly, this train of thought was seemingly switched, never to change back. Al was grateful.

"Oh, ha ha hah! I guess you'd need more hands for that!" Ms. Lily fondled the boy's furry ears. "My, such quality! Wherever did you find such a costume?"

"I've been wondering the same thing," Colonel Mustang remarked, looking at Alphonse curiously as he took his guest's large arm. "They had those on when they came here. But we'll save that for another day. Now-'"

"Oh, yes. Where _is_ the other one?"

"He's asleep. Now-"

"He can't be asleep. I ju–"

"That's very nice."

Al saw this as his chance to slip away, unnoticed. Ms. Royal's playful voice floated over to him. "Ah, I get it! Don't worry, I won't spill a bean."

"Good."

"I wish you luck in wining."

"Thank you."

Al began speed-hobbling up the stairs, mind already whirring with coming up with another distraction.

"Hope you find him!"

"Mm-hmn, so do I… Wait, find whom?"

"_Roy!_" Al had to stop and glance in the direction of the startled cry. Ms. Lily had a pudgy finger pointed at the younger Elric brother. Her face was turned away to the side in horror. "He's not wearing any underwear!"

Al's eyes widened and his hands hurriedly tugged down at the shirt he was wearing. Mr. Mustang, however, ignored the displeasured exclamation, instead grabbing the woman's shoulder and calling her attention back to him. "Who am I supposed to find?"

Al didn't like the man's tone of voice, nor where this was likely going. Ms. Lily, still seemingly upset over Al's risqué clothing, stared at the colonel, shoulders thrown back, answering, "Little Ed."

Now Al _really_ didn't like where this was going.

The man's voice was calm as he replied, "I already know where he is: upstairs, asleep."

Ms. Royal chuckled, her moods the most capricious either Elric boy had ever seen. "Impossible. I just saw him playing in my y–" The redhead abruptly put a finger over her lips. "Oops, can't spill any beans, now can I?"

"Lily, where did you see him?" There was urgency in the alchemist's voice.

"Not telling, sweetie. You have to find him yourself. Those're the rules."

"Just tell me!"

"You big cheater, no!" Ms. Royal looked serious, unyielding.

If this were Al, the boy knew, _he_ would keep pursuing the answer. Apparently, though, Mr. Mustang either knew his neighbor well enough that the answer would be long in coming and possibly obscure…or he knew his neighbor enough to assume he's never get an answer. Either way, the alchemist immediately ceased in his questionings in favor of swearing repeatedly while grabbing his jacket and pulling his shoes on.

Ignoring the recrimination from the redhead, Colonel Mustang grabbed the front door handle and ordered authoritatively, "Stay with him. Don't let him leave. Don't leave with him. Don't do anything dumb. I'll get back as soon as I can. Make _sure_ to keep an eye on him. And _don't_ do anything dumb."

Then he swung open the door and dashed out, slamming the door behind him.

A clock ticked steadily somewhere in the house.

Alphonse swallowed nervously as the woman turned to look at him.

Oh crap.

Ed stood up and looked over the edge of the rooftop. To his left and right, birds were chirping melodiously.

Twee-twee-twoo.

Chirpidee chirpidee.

Coo-_woo_-ooh-ooh.

Tee tw-_twee_, tw-_twee_.

Twoo-wa twoo-wa twoo-wa, tweedle.

Chir chir chir chir.

Twee-tir chirp twee-tir.

Tcheer tcheer.

The sun was on his back, the bits of snow had melted form the other day; it seemed like a wonderful day. And yet, Edward couldn't find it in himself to enjoy any of it. Because it wasn't a wonderful day at all.

He was…

He was angry at having to be here, trapped. He wanted to be back on the streets with Al.

But he was…

He was frustrated with not being able to get to Al.

He was also…

He was upset with what had happened and with himself. He'd gotten sick and gotten both boys caught, when Ed was supposed to look our for his little bro.

Still, on top of that, he was…

He was apprehensive with what might happen if and/or when the alchemist found him. He needed to avoid that.

And he was…

No. He wasn't.

He wasn't.

He would never be. He had to be strong. For Al.

He could be angry, frustrated, upset, even apprehensive. But not afraid. He wasn't _scared_ of being thrust into an unfamiliar situation, of not being to get to or protect his little brother, or of being caught.

Why would he be? Fear was useless. While he could use all those other emotions as fuel, being afraid just left him useless, helpless.

So he wasn't scared.

And it was merely self-preservation instincts kicking in making his heart thud minutes later when he heard the front door to Mustang's house open and shut loudly.

Edward flung himself forward to peer over the edge of the roof.

Black coat. Black hair.

The thudding in his ears returned.

Recoiling quickly, the teen pulled himself backward, leaning back on the heels of his palms. _Crap_.

Caution told him to stay where he was, but the need to know what was going on urged him to take a peek at the man down below. The later won out.

Ed cautiously looked down to see the black haired man sprinting across his yard, over to the fat lady's house. Now, Ed realized as he watched Mustang open the neighbor's door, was his chance. If he could just sneak down and slip in through the front door…

Just about to take this course of action, Edward was interrupted by the banging of Royal's back door. The boy quickly ducked around behind the chimney so as not to be seen. It was obvious that the alchemist was searching for him. Curiously, Ed wondered why the man never bothered with calling out his name, then realized that would have been pointless; it wasn't like Ed would ever answer or come to him.

No, he would be doing what he was doing right then: inching his way toward the opposite end of the roof, the rough shingles scratching at his skin. Too bad white fabric stood out so brightly against a dark rooftop.

That's where he put all the blame when he heard the rattle of Mustang's fence and he turned to see the man himself hopping over it.

Save the food, save the food, he thought frantically and hastily hefting the sheet full of food over and into the brick structure. He was more than grateful for the chimney's design, which had a wider lip on the top before narrowing farther in, allowing him to place the bundle there without falling in.

The food would be safe for now. Now, to save himself.

Clothes, too many clothes.

Where could be the boy be hiding? Inside? Probability said yes. But he had to check outside first.

Twenty seconds were all that passed before Roy grew inpatient to check inside the house. White caught his eye as he took a step in the direction of Lily's back door. Sure, there was plenty of white in all the laundry, but what he'd just seen wasn't coming from the hanging fabrics on his right, it was coming from his left; from his house. His head automatically snapped in the direction of the bright spot and his feet soon changed their direction.

There he was. The blond chimera was on the top of Roy's house, belly crawling to the far side of the roof.

Mustang placed a hand on the wooden fence as he reached it, pushing himself up and hopping over it. The teen looked over his shoulder, eyes widening when they took Roy in. Then the man's view was obscured by the edge of his roof as he neared his house.

However, now there was the rather pressing question: how does a man get up onto his rooftop in a hurry? It'd have to be the gutter. But when the colonel's hand shot up to grab it, his fingers just snagging its rim, the long piece of metal ripped from the side of Roy's house, leaving the man to fall back down. Before he could come up with another plan, though, the boy leapt off Roy's roof and onto the tree beside it, clinging onto a branch. The kid seemed to realize he'd been caught when Mustang strode over to the tree.

"I _will_ come up there after you," the alchemist threatened the teenager above him. "Come down before I get mad."

The blond chimera shook his head belligerently. No.

"Did you really think you could just run off like that? That easily?"

Again, the kid shook his head in the negative.

Roy didn't quite believe the unexpected response and demanded, "Then why are you out here?"

No reply. Only a wearied glare.

It was then that it occurred to Roy that the child had left without his precious little brother. He _couldn't _have been meaning to flee, not unless he was planning on abandoning his sibling. And the colonel just couldn't see that happening.

"Look, just get down here, okay?"

The boy looked uncertain before shaking his head yet again. He looked almost nervous.

"I'm not going to hurt you or anything. Besides, if you weren't planning on running away, then you shouldn't have any qualms with going back inside with me," the colonel reasoned, deciding force really couldn't get him very far.

The youth merely gripped the branch with his arm, shooting an apprehensive glance toward Roy's house. Roy saw it in his eyes.

"Fine, stay out here. But your little bro will be inside, with me…alone." The ploy was an obvious one and Mustang didn't even try to disguise it; he knew the youth wouldn't be able to resist.

And sure enough, the boy slowly, cautiously descended, his distrusting golden orbs locked on the black haired man. He stopped on the bottom branch, his gaze unwavering. But he did not move down any farther.

Roy reached out to—what, grab the boy? Help him down? Ed leaned away from Roy's hand. "Quit it," he whispered, coughing and clearing his throat afterward. He hopped down onto the ground, giving Roy a meaningful frown.

Roy got the message clearly: no touching. And, he supposed, he could live with that, provided the kid didn't make a break for it. He was unwilling to deal with any more troublemaking.

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><p><em>Fanficrazy<em>**, since I posted this, you can forget about your formal apology letter to my readers for delaying this chapter. **:)

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><p><strong>Now, I'd tell you to click on the blue button, but it seems to have disappeared in favor of what I've long believed they should have: a review box. <em>Write something<em> in it.**

*falls asleep*

**Oh,** *raises finger* **and I'm going to be gone for the next week, so I won't be able to update next Sunday.. **  
><strong>Review?<strong>

**| Please? |**

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	18. ᴜ ɴ s ᴛ ᴇ ᴀ ᴅ ʏ — t r u s t

**Hola...estoy aquí...jeje.** ^^;

**What is there to say? ***goes off rambling about the awesome retreat I went on***  
>This chapter is called ᴄᴏɴғɪᴀɴᴢᴀ — inestable. And I've finally hinted at what most of you have been wanting to know. <strong>:)

**Please enjoy my labors!  
>And future thanks to <strong>_awesomenaruto**, **_**whom I always neglect by waiting to long to send chapters to.**

**|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon, Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: Canon. April of 1913.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail and is a pickpocket. Age 14. Cat chimera.  
>|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Human with hair color from first anime. A pickpocket. Age 13. Cat chimera.<br>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Colonel. Flame Alchemist.  
>|All characters have their original personalities and appearances.<br>|And I still own the fat lady.**

**~ T S N**

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>.: 18 :.<br>ᴜ** **ɴ** **s** **ᴛ** **ᴇ** **ᴀ** **ᴅ** **ʏ** **—** **t** **r** **u** **s** **t  
><strong>**[**_The unwilling and the willing_**]**

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><p>Al was doing his best to hide. He'd darted behind the colonel's couch when Ms. Lily had had her attention diverted. She was currently searching for the young boy, thinking it was a game.<p>

"Alex, baby, I can't find you!" she sang, "Come out, wherever you are~!"

Al didn't move an inch. Alas, it made no difference, because, in the next second, heavy footfalls advanced on his hiding spot. A chubby face peered around the side of the tan couch, smiling. "There you are," she cooed. "Y'know, you really ought to take that costume off; it's a dead giveaway."

Al looked down to see his tail sticking out in plain view. He instinctively snatched it back, then disguised the move by grabbing hold of the appendage and tucking it behind him, as if it had no way of moving on its own.

"Ow– I mean, stop!" Al hollered in pain as he felt something tug at one of his ears. "I like them on!"

Ms. Lily withdrew her hand. She smiled. "Alright then, you can be my little kitty, Alex." Alphonse didn't bother correcting her on his name; it wasn't his real one, anyway.

"Um…" He didn't know how to respond.

"You hungry?" asked the woman. Al shrugged, this being a touchy subject with his brother.

…But Ed wasn't with him at the moment…and didn't seem to find much wrong with eating the crazy woman's food.

So he answered with, "Kinda."

Five minutes later found Alphonse and Ms. Royal sitting at Colonel Mustang's kitchen table, eating soup. Man, was it good. Ms. Lily struck up conversation not long afterward.

"Where'd you get the costume?"

Al suddenly lost his appetite. Swallowing down what was in his mouth—tasteless, warm broth—he quietly answered, "It's a long story."

"Oh, surely it can't be _that_ long, honey-pie." The adult sat forward in her chair, a way of insisting he explain. When no response came, she coaxed Al along with, "Did it cost a lot?"

Al shrugged. "Maybe, I guess so."

"You didn't buy it? Then you got it as a gift?"

"Yeah, a 'gift'."

"Who gave it to you? The same person who gave your brother his, I'd guess."

Alphonse nodded his head slowly.

"Well, I think you look awfully cute in it, sugar. Though, I bet you get that a lot."

"Not really."

"Why ever not?" Ms. Lily sounded almost dismayed and fairly perplexed.

"Most people," Al ventured, "don't find it 'cute'. Like Ed, most people find it freaky and unnatural." Al didn't know why he was being so open. Maybe it was just a way of letting out his feelings on someone who'd listen, but not be able to understand. "I don't find it so bad, but I can see it in Brother's eyes; he hates his. He says that it makes him feel like a freak… A–and it… What does that imply…when I have the features he hates, too?"

Alphonse looked up to see a very befuddled woman before him. "Why…don't you just take it off?"

Taking a breath, the brown-haired youth looked down at his knees. "It's not exactly that simp–"

The front door opened without warning, cutting off what Al was about to say.

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><p>Mustang opened the front door, nudging Ed inside. The first thing he noticed was Al and Lily sitting across from each other, talking over more of the woman's soup. The second thing Roy noticed was Ed hurriedly ducking behind the alchemist's back, a look of panic on his face. Roy wasted no time shutting the door, blocking the child's means of escape. However, the kid didn't seem intent on escaping at all. More like…hiding.<p>

Roy realized what the problem was.

"She thinks it's a costume," he murmured to the teen.

That seemed to calm the boy—after all, Al seemed relatively at ease with Lily—and he stepped out into the open.

Lily and Al were looking at the two newcomers, having noticed their arrival. Lily's expression was one of wonder; Al's was one of relief.

It was the fatter one who spoke first. "Aww, your brother has a costume, too!" Green eyes sparkling, Lily demonstrated her lack of impulse control by pushing herself away from the table and began hurrying over to the two. She bounced up and down like…well, like a fat lady running. Roy didn't have time for a better simile because a collision seemed imminent.

He reflexively grabbed Ed's shoulder, pulling him over to his other side in time to avoid being trampled by Miss Royal, who had her arms open wide for a hug. All three males flinched as the woman, instead, ran into Roy's closed front door. She bounced back, landing on the floor in a confused heap.

Roy stared down at the woman sitting on his floor, wary of offering his assistance.

Luckily, Lily did not ask for it, instead opting to pull herself up with the doorknob. The door groaned as if in pain.

Seeing the woman rise, Ed was quick to rejoin with his brother at the table.

Roy addressed the redhead. "Well, thank you for your help. But, seeing as how everything's under control again, you're welcome to leave."

"Thanks for the offer, honey, but I'm thinkin' I'll just stay here for a while."

"No, no, I'm sure there're things you need to be doing…"

"Nope," Lily said perkily, "I'm all yours."

This time, the alchemist just opened his front door, gesturing for the lady to leave.

She didn't.

Crossing her arms over her ample chest, Lily pouted almost playfully. "Roy, why do I get the feelin' that my lover doesn't want me around?"

"Because he doesn't."

"You're just playin' with me, right…?"

Roy couldn't help but roll his eyes. Yet, this proved to be the perfect strategy. "Of course I am," he said a bit too boisterously. "But your presence affects me too deeply." He put a hand over his heart in mock passion. "For your own sake, I beg you to leave, lest my feelings get the better of me."

"Oh, oh!" Lily covered her lips with her fingers, green eyes going wide with alarm. "I didn't mean to make you feel so vulnerable, dear! Um, I–I had best be leaving, in that case!" She fumbled getting outside as quickly as she could. "M–maybe a different day?"

"Of course."

Lily smiled widely before blowing her a kiss, then closed the door. Roy instantly dropped his charming smile and pretended to gag. He wondered how long that would keep her away. Then again, it didn't really matter; Hughes was coming by this evening to relieve him of his charges. _He_ could deal with the coot.

_His_ charges…were…where, exactly? Not at the table, that was for sure.

Mustang gripped his hair between his fingers, a flurry of curses cascading from his lips.

First, he hurried into the kitchen, checking under the table. Nothing. This was _impossible_. _How_ could the two keep sneaking off so easily? He hadn't heard a window or door open or anything! So where had they gone? Roy spun around…and closed his eyes, letting out a sigh of relief.

Both chimera were making their way up his stairs, silently and slowly.

"No," he commanded flatly. They turned to look at him. Roy shook his head and pointed at the floor next to him. "Down here, now."

Ed gave him a sneer of defiance.

"Or," Roy said threateningly, "I'll come up there and _carry_ you down."

That did the trick. Both boys descended, one limping, the other supporting.

"Living room, now," the man ordered, his finger pointing to his left once the kids reached the bottom step. They all went over to the couches, the brothers sharing one, Mustang residing in an armchair.

Roy sat I silence for a few moments, just watching the two brothers.

Finally, he spoke, "Explain."

Al looked to Ed. Ed looked away from both of them.

Roy waited…and waited, but the boy's didn't offer up any information. A whole minute had passed before the older brother directed his gaze at the alchemist. The blond waved his hand at his throat, opening and closing his mouth with a scornful look in his eye.

Roy's eyebrows leveled. "Then whisper. You didn't really seem to have an issue with it earlier."

The boy began to cross his arms, but seemed to think better of it. He began idly picking at his fingernails and whispered a nonsensible stream of mumblings under his breath.

He looked up.

Roy frowned at him. "Care to repeat that?"

"No," the kid retorted quietly. "I just told you my reason."

Roy folded his arms. "If you've already said it once, you shouldn't mind doing it one more time, audibly."

The child sighed, which brought on a bout of coughing, lasting for several seconds. He broke the fit with, "We were hungry. I went to get food."

"What, so you thought you'd steal from…my garden?"

"You have a garden?" the younger one asked, obviously surprised.

"No," Roy deadpanned, "that's what I find confusing."

"Your house," Ed spat, "isn't the only place I can find food." He smirked then. "I'm a thief; don't underestimate me." It sounded surprisingly ominous uttered in a hoarse whisper like that.

"I have food here, you don't have to go stealing it, you know," Roy chided with a frown. "Just ask." The elder boy opened his lips, but Roy interrupted him, exclaiming, "And it's _not poisoned_!"

"I'm not gonna believe you. Just drop it," the boy whispered, looking away. Al shrugged at the man helplessly.

"And then there's the matter of my clothes…" Roy uttered dryly. His eyes were drawn to the rip stretching across the bottom of the leg of one of his pair of pants the child was wearing.

"They were ugly to begin with," Ed quipped easily.

"Brother," Al admonished.

Roy straightened his back. "I don't believe I ever even gave you permission to take my clothing."

"I don't need your permission."

"Oh, you don't." It was meant as a challenge.

"Nice to know we understand each other. Can I go now?"

"No, you may not." About to rise, the elder boy settled back into the couch, albeit begrudgingly. Roy ran his fingers through his ebony hair, wearily sorting out his thoughts. When he looked at the boys again, his eyes had regained their flame. "What is it?" he wanted to know.

"What's what?" Al clarified.

"What's with you? What is your problem with me?"

"I think you just answered that, yourself," Ed snapped with ample chutzpah.

"Why? Why do you act like this? I don't recall doing anything to deserve this. I provide safety, shelter, doctors, food…and this is how you treat me. You disrespect me, steal my clothes and sneak out–"

"We're really sorry about that," the goldenrod-haired child offered contritely. "I was hungry and Brother was just he–"

"No, we're not, Al." Ed's hoarse voice rose up out of his whisper. "We're not sorry. I sneaked out to find food that I _knew_ would be safe to eat. It was chilly outside, so I borrowed some clothes. You don't _deserve_ our respect. We can get our own food; we've been doing it for years. We don't _need_ your doctors because we heal fast enough on our own. We never _asked_ to be imprisoned here. And I feel anything _but_ 'safe' around you. I feel li–" A stint of coughs interrupted the teen's tirade.

Al gave him the expected look of concern as he waited for it to peter out.

As it did, Ed's gaze locked with Roy's once more. Yet, most of the teen's malice had fallen away. "Why do we have to be here?"

"Allow me to repeat what you just told me, you're _thieves_. And I cannot just allow you to roam the streets, picking pockets. I thought you understood that."

"So, what, are you just going to keep us here forever? Hiding us in a closet whenever someone comes over to visit?" the blond challenged. "The best thing is to just us go back to the way we were."

Roy could catch a hint of desperation slipping out from the boy's wall of indifference. But, pretending to ignore it, the colonel calmly replied, "I'm sure we'll be able to work out something…"

Ed scoffed. "Like what? Send us to some orphanage? Yeah, I can see it now." The teen gestured with his arms e mocking, "And here we have two chimera freak brothers. Don't worry, we've trained them not to bite." Ed stopped. "Yeah, I can see that working out real well," he spat.

"Ed," Al argued, "I don't think that's what he meant."

"Well he sure as heck had better not try to drag us off to some lab to be experimented on." The blond was practically seething by now.

Mustang rubbed at the side of his face tiredly. But deciding this was a problem that needed to be addressed, he told the older teen, "Listen to me…Edmund." The name was added almost as an afterthought. "I give you my word that I am not going to send you to 'some lab to be experimented on'. Got it? And starting today, I want you to actually believe me when I say that I'm not trying to do anything to harm you or your brother. Just trust me."

Ed crossed his arms. "You throw that word 'trust' around like it's easy to do. And yet, you're so hypocritical in not trusting us one bit."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you watching us all the time, locking the window so we can't escape, and not believing half the things we say."

"Who says I don't believe you? You think that because that's how you view the world; you can't just accept something someone says without doubting it."

"Stop talking like you know me!" The elder kid's voice was harsh and he sat forward on the couch. "Now, if you want us to trust you, give us some type of proof that says we can."

"I think you need to find the definition of trust, kid," Roy told him. "It doesn't come with proof; that's what makes it trust."

"But it comes with a reason."

The raven-eyed man was quiet after that. He regarded the teenager before him, realizing that the kid might actually want an excuse to put a little faith in the alchemist. Beside the blond, Al was quiet; he didn't seem too fond of joining in with the older males' arguments.

"Fine," he said at last. The two boys blinked up at him questioningly. "You want me to trust you, I want you to trust me. So that's what we'll do. If you'll promise me that you won't run away, I'll leave your window unlocked and I'll let you spend time alone. In return, since I've given you my word that I won't hurt you, you'll stop questioning my cooking and challenging everything I say."

"And what happens if you break that promise? What if you lie?" Ed immediately challenged in defiance of the parameters the alchemist had just laid down.

"Then," Roy said with little hesitation, "I'll let you go." The brothers' eyes widened. "But since I have no intention of going against my word, that shouldn't be much of an issue. But," he interrupted the boy's trading shocked glances with each other, "if you break _your_ word…" He trailed off, letting what he said just hang in the air.

"If we break our word…?" Al wanted to know when the colonel was not forthcoming.

"Then you're going to tell me where you came from."

Al tensed, but Ed quickly brushed it off with, "It's a small town, you wouldn't know it."

"I want to know how you two came into existence."

Again, the blond teenager refused to take the man seriously, this time bringing a devilish gleam into his eye. "Well, you see, when a mommy and a daddy love each other _very much_…"

Roy was not amused. Neither was Al, based on the appalled look he was giving his sibling. However, Ed seemingly was as he continued on with his tale of procreation. Before the boy could elaborate further, however, Roy interrupted him. "You seem confident."

"…Yeah? So do you."

"Let's hope that means something good." There was a short silence. "Now, how about you two head upstairs; you look like you could use some rest."

"You can't– I mean…hmph." Roy smirked. This might actually be enjoyable now. But the teenager quickly wiped the cocky look off the adult's face with a sly grin. "Hey, that other guy is coming later, right?"

"Yeah, why?"

"This 'trust' thing, I never agreed to do it with him." Now the teen smirked. "I wonder what I can get away with."

Roy's mind was suddenly awhirl with a million things the boy could be meaning. And, when he looked up, the kids were already halfway up the stairs. Without a second thought, Mustang went to find pencil and paper. He needed to protect Hughes.

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><p><strong>I have somehting in the next chap that I look forwad to.<strong> xD

**Meanwhile, you make me feel so special with your reviews!**

**The box is right below.**


	19. s ᴜ ʀ ʀ ᴏ ɢ ᴀ ᴛ ᴇ — c a r e t a k e r

**Well now... Estaba muy ocupado durante el mes pasado:**

**Fui al Campamento de la Juventud; it was a blast and I screamed my lungs out during Oatmeal Kickball.**

**Fui a Kings Dominion; I blacked out on the _Intimidator 305_. I found out why it's called that. It takes you 305 feet into the air, going up at a 45° angle at 15 mph, just to drop you 300 feet at an 85° angle going 90+ mph. While only the 305 made it into the name, it was the numbers, plus the 6G, that gave me tunnel vision and the ability to bellow that loudly when I'm going down that near vertical drop.** ^^"

**¡Y ahora estoy en la universidad! College; it's like school, but there are a lot of older adults, and you chose what classes you go to, versus your parents choosing for you.**

**I could go on and on, pero...I'm sure you'd like to get to reading ᴄᴜɪᴅᴀᴅᴏʀ — sustituto. I tried to get the plot moving again in this one. I hope my list amuses you enough to forgive me. I was readin' all your reviews and I felt so loved! ¡Gracias, gracias!**  
><strong>The<strong>_ awesomenaruto_ **is my beta.** :)

**************|Sᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: Canon, Amestris.  
>|Tɪᴍᴇ: April 6th, 1913.<br>|Eᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ Eʟʀɪᴄ: No automail. Chimera. Pickpocket. Age 14.  
>|Aʟᴘʜᴏɴsᴇ Eʟʀɪᴄ: Humanchimera. Pickpocket. Age 13.  
><strong>|Rᴏʏ Mᴜsᴛᴀɴɢ: Flame Alchemist.<strong>**  
>|Mᴀᴇs Hᴜɢʜᴇs: Forever-awesome daddy.<strong><br>|All characters maintain their original aged, personalities, and appearances…I hope.  
><strong>************

**************~ T S N**************

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><p><strong><span>Title Subject To Change<span>****  
><strong>-TʜᴇSʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢNᴇᴋᴏ-

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><p><strong>s<strong> **ᴜ** **ʀ** **ʀ** **ᴏ** **ɢ** **ᴀ** **ᴛ** **ᴇ — c ****a ****r ****e ****t ****a ****k ****e ****r  
>[<strong>_The untrustworthy and the friends_**]**

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><p>"Roy, don't worry about it; I've handled children before. Just go." Maes was currently trying to usher his friend out the door.<p>

Mustang, however, had suddenly seemed to become uncomfortable with the whole idea of leaving and had begun resisting his friend until he was sure Maes was ready for this. "One little girl, Maes, not two chimera boys."

"I'll deal with it," Hughes enunciated clearly.

"I've got a list on the counter in the kitchen. That, and phone numbers for–"

"Roy!"

"Yes?"

"I can handle it, got it?"

"Hughes."

"_Roy_."

"Fine."

"Good, now leave." Hughes pushed Mustang out the door. "You've got paperwork to do, anyway. I'm sure Lieutenant Hawkeye misses you."

"You're not–?" Hughes interrupted the colonel by closing the door in his face. "C'mon, Hughes!" the man called through the wood.

"Either you go, or I do. Make your choice."

Maes could just visualize his buddy's face; the irritated roll of his eyes, the hand jammed into one pocket, and the huff of defeat as his footsteps receded. Maes smiled.

He went into the kitchen, where he idly glanced at the "list" Roy had referred to. There it was, on the counter, as he'd been told. The green-eyed man picked it up.

**Hughes: No letting them (the boys) outside. **

**Don't leave any windows/doors open. **

**No letting them near sharp objects or anything that could be used as a weapon of any kind.**

Maes paused a moment to picture the brothers yelling and running at him, armed with spoons and pillows.

Huh.

**No leaving either unattended for longer than you need to.**

**Don't let them near any valuables.**

**Make sure**–

Maes stopped reading there, seeing it as basically useless orders. Next to that were the papers written by the Rockbell doctors, which the green-eyed man glanced over. Lastly, there was a folded piece of paper with the names _Edmund_ and _Alec_ written across it.

Curiosity drove Hughes to unfold the piece of paper; what type of note had Roy intended for the boys?

**You will listen to and obey Mr. Hughes. You will respect what he says and do nothing to harm him.**

**No robbing, harassing, hitting, kicking, scratching, biting, punching, cutting, stabbing, shooting, impaling, burning, burying, strangling, suffocating, hanging, drowning, beheading, dissecting, executing, maiming, scarring, sacrificing, performing amputations or any type of surgery on, launching out of any sort of device, scaring to death, crucifying, poisoning, trampling, roasting, dropping out a window or any high place, disemboweling, eating, kidnapping, blinding/blindfolding, teasing, pranking, mocking, starving, inebriating, dueling, disobeying, skinning, hunting, blowing up, throwing rocks at, tying up, stalking, tackling dropping heavy objects on, freezing, boiling, smoking, crushing, deafening, drawing on, harassing, infecting, exhausting, dressing up, poking, licking, soaking, climbing on, lying to, grossing out, stranding, holding hostage, stressing, electrocuting, whipping, giving haircuts to, selling into slavery, bruising, locking in a cage, humiliating, transmuting, skewering, mummifying, causing Mr. Hughes muscle strain, or breaking any of his bones. Nor are you permitted to hire somebody to commit or in any other way perform the above mentioned.**

**Otherwise, I will have Hawkeye deal with you.**

**Behave.**

Hughes blinked, impressed. Wow, Roy was paranoid. Also, he felt slightly disturbed at how many ways his friend had thought up to kill him. Toward the end of the list of no-no's, the forbidden actions seemed more and more random, as if the colonel had been running out of ideas. How long had it taking him to think this up? And why?

* * *

><p>The one with glasses, Mr. Hughes, was here. Al could hear him moving around downstairs. The brothers had been in "their" room for most of the day after their little incident that morning.<p>

When they had entered the room, Ed's cockiness had melted away to be replaced with sullen aggravation. It seemed he was just as frustrated as Al was surprised with his and the colonel's agreement.

Al had even asked about it. "Brother, were you serious when you were talking to Mr. Mustang?"

"Are you saying I was lying?" Ed had snapped back.

Al hadn't pursued the subject further, noting that Edward wasn't in a talkative mood. Yet, despite his brother's claim, Al had a difficult time believing it. Would Ed _really_ reveal such a thing? It was a secret never even discussed between the brothers. And Ed would give it away? Just like that? It just didn't line up. Especially with how easily Ed told lies. How many had they told already? Was Ed honestly going to stick to telling the truth from there on out, or was he just planning to never get caught in a lie?

All the younger Elric could do was hope that Mr. Mustang slipped up before either of the boys did. But, the boy supposed, that was irrelevant right then. Because they weren't dealing with him anymore. The last they had seen of the alchemist was when they had all made good on their word; the colonel had unlocked the windows and doors, and the boys had sat down to a tense, awkward meal with the man without questioning the food.

But the rest of the day had been spent in boredom. Ed was on the floor, picking paint off the wall next to him and depositing the peelings by his toes. Al had switched from examining the bandage on his ankle, to watching his brother and trying to find patterns in where the blond pulled the paint away from the wall, to staring at the ceiling or out the window. He may have dozed off at some point in time, what with how comfy the bed was. Occasionally, either boy would start up a brief conversation with the other, but they never lasted long and they both seemed to be absorbed in their own thoughts. Al knew that, secretly, they were both just waiting, unwilling to share their anxieties.

And what they were waiting for had arrived and had just shut Mr. Mustang out of the house.

Al glanced at Ed, whose eyes had flicked to the open bedroom doorway.

"What do we do?" Al asked, unsure.

"Who says we have to do anything?" Edward answered, settling his arms behind his head.

"You think we can trust him?"

"Pfft, no." However, Ed then lowered his arms and his ears drooped a little. "But what choice do we have? We're trapped here."

"I dunno," replied Al, rolling onto his side, "it's not _so_ bad. Especially now that Mr. Mustang trusts us more."

Ed scoffed. "No he doesn't. He just has to act like it or let us go."

"How do you know he doesn't?"

"How do you know that he does?"

"Because he said he would."

Ed looked at his little brother sadly. "It doesn't work that way, Al."

"Says who?"

"Says me. I have more experience than you do."

"Yeah, just one year."

"Well, a lot can happen in a year. Look at how much has happened to us in just a few days."

"But how do you know for sure?" Al asked quietly, lowering his chin to the blankets. "You're not a grown-up."

Edward bristled at this. "I'm close enough!" Though the boy's voice came out surprisingly strong, he still rubbed at his throat afterward before adding, "D'you think they're better than me or something, just 'cause they're older?"

"No," Al mended, offering a grin. "You're the best, Ed. I just meant…" Al folded. "Never mind." But as he lay back on his back again and let his grayish eyes wander over the white ceiling, he secretly retorted. _But didn't you just say a lot can happen in a year? And how many years older are Mr. Hughes and Mr. Mustang than you?_ He finally spoke aloud. "What harm could it do?"

Edward must have been following his brother's train of thoughts, as he seemed to know what Alphonse meant. "It could hurt us in more ways than you know."

"But, if it ever came to that, it'd mean we're free to go, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

The younger boy sighed. He knew that he had purposefully trapped his older sibling, giving him the option of either agreeing with Al, or admitting that the hurt he was talking about was more than physical. And Ed had chosen the former option.

"Why're we even arguing about this, Al?" Ed asked, his tone sounding lighter.

"I dunno," Al said, also deciding to put the matter behind them.

"Hey, what would you think if I–"

The sound of footsteps climbing the stairs interrupted the blond teenager. Sixteen steps later, soft footfalls approached them from the hall. Immediately after, there came a knock on the wall outside the bedroom and a man's face leaning in through the doorway.

"Can I come in?" he asked with a smile.

"I don't care," said Ed.

"If you want," Al answered at the same time.

Acting on the boys' approval, Mr. Hughes entered the bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and Al automatically sat upright.

"So, what have you two been up to?" the man asked.

Al was kind of disoriented by the ease with which the adult spoke, as if he were talking to well-known friends. The younger boy shrugged.

"Been giving Roy a hard time?" This time, the question was almost rueful and green eyes were directed at Edward.

"What's it to you?"

"Do I really need a reason to ask? He's my friend."

"You don't have very good taste in friends, then," Ed rejoined.

However, instead of taking the insult for what it was, Mr. Hughes just laughed. "Well' he's far from perfect, I'll agree with you there. But, he's still a pretty good guy, once you get to know him.

Edward only frowned and went back to picking paint off the wall. Mr. Hughes gave a distasteful arch of the eyebrow at Ed's work, but smartly decided not to comment on it. Instead, he set his eyes on the teenager's attire.

"That's an interesting wardrobe you have there, Edmund," he commented.

Ed ignored the statement altogether and just kept on with what he was doing. Mr. Hughes twisted his lips to the side at his lack of success with the elder Elric boy. He therefore turned his attention to the younger one.

"What about you, Alec?"

"Huh?"

"How've you been?"

Alphonse shyly looked down at the bed sheets. He felt uncomfortably…comfortable around the man. There was something about him that Al found himself inexplicably attracted to. He just couldn't place his finger on it. "Um…well–"

"What are you doing?" Ed asked suddenly before Al could continue.

"What do you mean, Ed?"

"I mean why are you here, talking to us like this, as if you actually give a crap about us?"

Mr. Hughes propped his elbows on his knees, letting his hands fall limply between. "Who says I don't?" The man didn't receive a reply. "To answer your question, I thought that, since I'm going to be here with you for a while, we might as well get to know each other a little better."

"Well, it'll have to wait for tomorrow; we're going to bed." With that, Ed pushed himself up and went over to the bed.

"But I'm no–" Alphonse began, knowing it was a fruitless protest even before Ed cut him off.

"Well _I am_ tired, okay?" The teen hauled himself into the bed and pulled the blankets up. "You can go away now," he informed Mr. Mustang's friend.

Mr. Hughes accepted the defeat and stood obediently. However, he didn't leave. "Have you two eaten?" he asked, instead.

"Yep."

Mr. Hughes looked to Alphonse. With surprise, Al realized that the man was looking for confirmation. Had the colonel informed him of Ed's reluctance to eat the foods he was offered? Al nodded, saying, "Mm-hmm, we ate with Mr. Mustang earlier."

"Alright. Roy said something about changing your bandages. Am I right?"

Ed blew a frustrated grunt to his teeth, rolling his eyes up in annoyance. Still, he let the green-eyed man tend to Alphonse without complaint. When the man was done, he started toward the blond, but Ed didn't let him get any further.

"Don't need it," he declared. He unwrapped the white bandage on his hand to show it to Mr. Hughes. There was only a thin line where the wound used to be, the only indication that there was ever even an injury. "I heal fast."

Mr. Hughes peered at it. "That you do."

"Good, then can we go to bed now?" the teenager wanted to know.

Mr. Hughes compliantly retreated to the doorway. There, he gave the boys a final appraisal. The corner of his mouth turned down. "We really ought to get you boys something to wear," he noted.

Al looked down at himself. Beside him, Ed said, "We have clothes. Mustang's just not given them back, yet."

Mr. Hughes looked thoughtful. "Still…" He refocused. "Alright then, good night. If you need anything, I'm downstairs. Don't be shy. Sweet dreams." At last, he closed the door.

Footsteps retreated down the hall before descending the stairs. Then, all was quiet.

At least, it was until Ed spoke. "'Sweet dreams'? Did he really just say that?"

Al smiled to himself and snuggled into the blanket. "Yeah."

* * *

><p>Maes looked out into the starlit sky through the window of Roy's house. It had been over an hour since he had left the boys alone. That either meant something good, or something very bad. However, Maes had the strong suspicion that it was the former, to his relief.<p>

Since then, he'd tidied up the house and found the aforementioned articles of clothing that the older child had referred to. They were now folded neatly on the sofa—an art he had learned from his lovely wife. Honestly, though, the kids needed more clothing than those tattered old things. The lieutenant made a mental note to do something about that in the near future.

Emerald eyes dragged themselves away from the window to settle on the kitchen. What kind of food did Roy have around here? Maes had only had a light supper and his stomach was reminding him that it needed more sustenance that what it had been given earlier.

Meandering past the stairs and into the kitchen, Maes wondered if he could grab a snack and maybe get a little work done. He'd been meaning to organize his pictures of Elicia based on their levels of cuteness for some time now. The trouble was, they were _all_ so adorable, it was hard to sort them. At least he'd be able to gaze at the pictures of his family, even if he couldn't be with them. Oh, how he missed them already… It would be a long and lonely night on Roy's couch for him.

The white of papers caught the lieutenant's eye as he turned on a light. On the counter, where he'd left them, were the papers that Roy had made up for him. With an amused expression, the man picked them up and looked at the list of no-no's his friend had written for the brothers. It hurt his eyes just to look at the block of text.

Without much hesitation, the fatherly man dropped the long note in the trash. No one would be needing that.

That done, he turned his attention to Roy's pantry. Maes blinked when he opened it.

Ooh…coffee.

* * *

><p><strong>I need coffee... No, actually I don't; I don't even like the stuff. But I've given up trying to sleep at 2:00 in the morning. Besides, I'd rather not have a repeat of earlier. What's this "earlier" I speak of? Well, I've discovered why they say to don't have coffeeenergy drinks while on certain medicines. Being that I kept out missing sleep the last two nights, I hadn't had breakfast, I'd just spent an hour babysitting nine children, and I had to leave for college in 15 minutes, I was willing to split an energy drink with my mom. Actually, when I was searching for my classroom, I thought it was just anxiety. It was only my stupidity. And I couldn't get my hands to stop shaking. So I spent most of that class feeling like my heart was going to knock me out of my chair, grateful that we weren't covering anything important because I was having a hard time focusing.**

**Well, that's my story. Can you believe that I'm going to have to end up taking English, Yoga, and Psychology to complete my math major? Insane.**

**Oh, wait! Jeje~ I promised **_mismantle_** and **_Fanficrazy_** I'd add this in here. Bonus, never-happened, never-would-happen, crossed-my-mind scene:**

In the dead of night, Edward Elric sneaked sown the stairs, past a sleeping Hughes, and into the kitchen. He set the the bed sheet he was carrying down on the floor and it gave a quiet rattle. Making haste, the teen went about collecting supplies.

Unfortunately for him, he soon came across the note Hughes had thrown in the trash. The boy caught sight of his name on it and quickly drew it out, wondering what it could be. Golden eyes skimmed the page, absorbing its contents. Moments later had him growing increasingly disturbed. However, this was not due to Roy's ability to imagine so many ways to kill his good friend, nor was simply the somewhat disturbing ways do die listed on the paper.

No. His face was hardening with anger. Finally, he threw down the note in aggravation. Swearing, he also did the same to the pocketknife, coil of rope, and the flamethrower he'd had on him. He kicked the bundled bed sheet, scattering all the necessary parts for constructing a trebuchet across the kitchen floor. Lastly, he threw away the makeup kit he'd snagged from Royal.

The boy then stomped up the stairs, all his features displaying his foul mood and he snapped, "Dang it, how'd he know?!"

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